


Honky Dancer

by hookedontaronfics



Category: British Actor RPF, Taron Egerton Fandom
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Dancers, Dancing, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, RocketMan, auditions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2020-09-26 03:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20382934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hookedontaronfics/pseuds/hookedontaronfics
Summary: I was inspired to write a series based on the perspective of a Rocketman dancer. I hope you enjoy following a London-based dancer from her first audition run-in with Taron to maybe so much more - but don’t forget a healthy dose of drama along the way! More mature themes will develop, so be warned!





	1. Auditions

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: None at this time

“And first position … second … third … and fourth … now fifth. Good, and again.” I swept my arms gracefully through the positions my muscles knew by memory and my mind knew by heart. I’d learned the basic positions when I was no older than the girls I now taught, in their adorable pink tutus and bright shiny faces. “Keep going, that’s right,” I encouraged, walking between the barres and making adjustments while the 5-year-olds moved through each ballet position to the music I had queued.

I kept a watchful eye on these aspiring young dancers, hoping to instill in them the love of dance I had grown up with my entire life. Even when I offered corrections, I tried to do so in an encouraging manner. I’d had my share of critical teachers and even a few who thought I wouldn’t get that far. But I’d never let it bring me down and only used the negativity to push harder for what I wanted. Until, that is, a nearly career-ending injury four years ago that had kept me off the stage and behind studio doors instead. I’d made the transition to teaching on the advice of a dance counselor, and I knew I would never look back.

I ended class with some easy stretching and accepted the cute hugs and calls of “Thank you, Miss Juliette!” as my class filed out to their waiting mothers [and two fathers, bless their hearts.] Once the last girl had left I quickly packed my bag as Madison pushed her way in through the door.

“Oh my god, are you excited?” she asked me as I traded out my slippers for sneaks and pulled on a pair of comfy sweatpants and a hoodie over my leotard.

“I’m so nervous I could puke, but I won’t get an opportunity like this again. And I feel like I’m finally ready,” I grinned, making sure I had everything I needed in my bag for the audition I was already running late for. “Thank you for subbing my next class, I appreciate it, Mads,” I grinned, giving her a hug.

“It’s no sweat, now go!” she laughed, fairly pushing me out the door. “And break a leg!” she giggled as I groaned inwardly.

I rushed out of the dance school and hurried along Balderton Street to Oxford, heading toward the Bond Street tube station and taking the train across town to the Paramount studios on Chiswick. I snacked on a protein bar to keep my energy up while we rumbled over the tracks, doing a few stretches to keep my muscles loose as I wouldn’t have much time to warm up again when I got there. If anyone was staring at me, I ignored it, but I’m sure the tube riders had seen far worse than a few grand plies.

Once I arrived at the studio I hurried through the check-in process as quickly as possible. I was issued my number and told which group and studio to join before I rushed off to the bathroom to change. I’d chosen a sparkly magenta pink leotard I’d used for a performance piece years ago for this audition - I was trying out for the dance ensemble cast for Rocketman, the Elton John biopic, so even if it was a bit over-the-top I felt it was appropriate. 

I pulled on tights and a black ruffled short skirt over that and strapped on my character shoes. I let my strawberry blonde hair down out of its tightly woven bun and dashed on a bit of thick eyeliner before affixing my number with safety pins. I put on bright pink lipstick and grinned at myself in the mirror.  _ I certainly looked the part _ , I thought, stashing everything else in my bag and going to find my group.

I dropped my dance bag against the wall with everyone else’s stuff and found an open spot on the floor, sitting in a deep split and doing a few stretches while everyone else either chatted excitedly or went through their own personal warmups. The buzz in the room instantly cut out as a trim stately man strode in; I instantly recognized him as the choreographer we’d be working with. Waves of excitement and nerves washed through me in equal measure as we all stood and lined up without being instructed to. Several other people came in and took seats along the wall; I presumed they were likely producers and crew of some variety.

I tried to secure myself a spot in the middle front; even if I wasn’t feeling the most confident, I could certainly fake my way into it. This was my first professional audition since I’d made company - and later principal - for London Ballet Company. All of my dance dreams had shattered after the injury that meant I couldn’t do pointe work any more, but I’d thrown myself into classes in other styles as a sort of rehab process and in an effort to diversify my skill set, and found I loved jazz and Broadway the most.

So here I was, giving my all through the brief warmup, across-the-floor exercises, and combinations, hoping to catch the choreographers’ eye. I knew I was one dancer in a field of hundreds, some coming from other countries just for this chance. But I also knew how badly I wanted a spot in the ensemble, to be a part of such a spectacle. 

My favorite combination involved a bit of a complicated leap into a fan kick; I could see other dancers struggling to get elevated but I felt so completely in my own element, soaring across the floor and losing myself to the music, which unfortunately wasn’t actually from Elton’s catalogue. We were split into smaller groups to perform the series of steps for the choreographer; at the end of it, I added my own little flourish, dropping into a very Fosse-style pose with curved shoulders and tilted hips. The choreographer brushed past me as he circled our group, muttering “very good” so only I could hear. I couldn’t help but smile, but kept my eyes low.

We were given a twenty-minute break after everyone had a chance to perform, and the choreographers from each room of dancers would be making first cuts before we would all be shuffled together and given a full routine to learn and perform on an actual stage. I dearly hoped I’d be making it through the cut, but sometimes not getting a part had nothing to do with how good a dancer you were. Directors sometimes wanted a specific “look,” and I had no idea if this would hold true for Rocketman or not.

The hallways were far too noisy for me so I stepped nimbly over dancers sprawled on the floor as I traveled away from the studio rooms, trying to find somewhere quiet to listen to my music and try to find a bit of peace. I filled my water bottle at a drinking fountain before turning a corner and leaving all the other dancers behind. I probably should have just plopped myself here, but curiosity got the better of me, so I followed down this hallway too, my character shoe footsteps echoing in the quiet even as I tried to walk softly. I plugged my headphones in and was just about to hit play on my Spotify playlist when I heard a couple of voices coming from a cracked doorway. The room had a bank of sweeping windows and I couldn’t help peering in; some day I would learn to tame my incessant curiosity, but today was not that day.

Three men stood inside, involved in what looked like a serious discussion. I couldn’t really make out much of what they were saying, their voices just low murmurs, but I thought I might have recognized one of them. Just then they all turned to head toward the door, and I ducked away from the window, hoping I hadn’t been seen. As I slowly tried to sneak away, the door swung open rather suddenly and flew straight into me, sending me sprawling onto my hands and knees, my phone skidding across the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” the handsome young man I recognized said, instantly offering his hand to help me up and looking embarrassed. I took it, noticing how soft his skin was but how strong he felt as he helped bring me back to my feet.

“It’s alright,” I said with a laugh, brushing off my knees and hands and retrieving my phone from the floor. “Nothing hurt but my pride,” I said as he looked me up and down, taking in my obvious dance garb.

“Here for the auditions, then?” he smiled warmly at me, as the other two men carried on their conversation.

“Um, yes, though I’m hoping I’ve danced with more grace than I just displayed,” I grinned good-naturedly. “Though I should get back to that now.”

“Well I wish you best of luck, Number Two-Nine-Four,” he read off my assigned number with a smirk.

“It’s Juliette,” I supplied with a laugh.

“Juliette then, you may call me Taron,” he replied, smiling so widely his dimples showed through.

“Holy shit, you’re Elton!” I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands and making the other two men halt their conversation mid-sentence as they gawked at me.

“That’s up for debate but yes, I’ll be attempting to play him,” Taron grinned at my shock. I knew now how I’d recognized him, from the Kingsman films. But standing here in front of him was an entirely different thing. He was totally unassuming, just dressed in jeans, a black sweatshirt and a ball cap with “twenty-two” scrawled across it.

“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful at it,” I laughed lightly, trying to not feel shy in front of him, but for his part he did everything to try and make me feel at ease.

“I suppose if I was shit Elton wouldn’t have chosen me,” Taron just chuckled.

“No, I don’t think so. Well, it’s very nice to bump into you but I really must get back,” I said softly.

“Wouldn’t want you to be late, love,” he said with a wink. “We’re heading to the stage now,” he added, making my insides feel rather funny all of a sudden. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe,” I agreed a bit faintly, hurrying back down the hall the way I’d come, my heart pounding and unaware that Taron’s gaze lingered on my willowy frame. The hallways were already deserted and I worried I was late, but I slipped back into the studio room just in time, as we were all called to line up again. 

The choreographer was holding a notepad and after thanking everyone for coming out and giving our hardest work, told us only five numbers from our room were advancing to the stage routine. I closed my eyes at that; five out of a room of 35.  _ There’s no way I’m getting through this cut _ , I thought. I was confident in my abilities but there was so much talent it was practically dripping from the walls.

“If your number is called, please come join me up here,” our choreographer said, and rattled off the first number, 162. A spry male dancer who had all the marks of “ballet” written in his physique left our ranks and joined the choreographer at the front, fairly beaming to be one of the chosen. Next up was 052, a fiery redhead with a pretty face; 291 _ [so close] _ , a black muscular male with a sweet expression; and 112, a tow-headed boy who looked barely out of secondary school.

I closed my eyes and held my breath as the last number was read, even if I had no chance. “294!” the choreographer called, and no one moved a muscle. Someone next to me tapped me on the shoulder, my eyes still screwed shut tightly.

“Hey, I think that’s you!” a girl whispered as the choreographer called my number again.

“Oh,” I laughed in disbelief, walking to the front in stunned silence as the choreographer clapped for us and everyone else joined in. After more thanking of all the auditioners, the people who hadn’t made it were dismissed, and after much chatter and shuffling of bags, it was just us five left. We’d all been told on the audition notice to bring black pants and a white button-down shirt we could dance in and tap shoes, though the particular style they had left up to us, and we were now instructed to change into those clothes and join all the other dancers in another studio room in ten minutes. I decided to leave my leotard on under my shirt, only doing up three buttons so it could still flash through. I switched my character shoes out for actual taps and then dashed off a squealing text to Madison that I had made it through the first round of cuts.

<Oh my god, that’s so exciting! So what happens next?> she texted back immediately.

<Next up is learning a full 2-minute tap routine in 30 minutes and performing it on the stage as a group. I’m exceedingly nervous about this. Tap has never been my strongest suit.>

<But you’ve been taking hours and hours of classes! I’m sure you’ll do great> she sent back with about ten winky-face emojis. I had to laugh at that.

<Gotta go, I’ll let you know if I make it through to solos.> I stashed my phone in my bag again and made it to the large studio room in time, lost in a sea of other black-and-white clad dancers, all of us trying to individualize in some way, with bright lipsticks or colored socks or patterned scarves tied round our heads. We were all handed cheaply made top hats and shown where to stand. The dancers from each room seemed to band together, so I was in line with the other four from my room, trying to give them encouraging smiles.

“We’ve got this,” I said under my breath to the tow-headed boy next to me, who looked incredibly nervous though he was probably one of the best talents in the room, even so young. He nodded at me and smiled kindly in appreciation, so I gave him a goofy thumbs up before the choreographers addressed our room. 

There were about 60 of us, and I strained to hear what was being said over the coughs and rustles as dancers adjusted their clothes. Still, I got the gist of it and then we were hard at work, learning pieces of the routine, repeating each small snippet over and over and then quickly breezing through the next. It felt like a blur, but I did what I knew to do best in these situations; I linked each piece of choreo to an image in my brain to keep the sequence in order, building on it as we moved through the 2 minutes of routine the way a child might play a game of memory.

We were all sweaty and out of breath when our thirty minutes were up, and soon we were herded to the stage to perform the piece all on our own, as the choreographers and producers and maybe even the director for all I knew sat in the audience.  _ Oh, and Taron _ , I reminded myself, trying not to let that make me suddenly nervous. The last thing I needed to do was forget the choreography. We stood on the stage under lights, staring out into the darkened auditorium. If I squinted hard enough I could make out the shapes of people in the seats but had no idea who they were. I wondered if Taron was out there looking for me, and the thought of it made me smile.

The strains of music began and soon we were lost in the whirlwind of the dance, performing the piece like we’d been rehearsing for months. It was nice to feel like I could rely on the dancers around me as much as they could rely on me. Sure, we were all competing against each other for those coveted spots, but we were also performers at heart. And so, for those two minutes, we leaped and we spun and we tapped and we shone.

When the music was over we all stood around on the stage together, whispering and waiting as the shadows in the audience deliberated our fates. I didn’t think I had missed a step, and I looked forward to giving my solo, a piece I had worked hard on and that had made Mads cry when I performed it for her. Still, twenty people wouldn’t be making it through this round and that made me even more anxious than I already was.

After about ten minutes someone called for order, and we quieted down immediately. Numbers were called quickly, dancers cheered or groaned, and I was thankfully called up somewhere in the middle of the pack this time. My relief was probably evident. We were given about twenty minutes to prepare whatever we needed to; I chose that time to eat another protein bar and chill out to some music. I had a simple costume for this piece, wanting my dancing to be center stage. I kept the black pants but exchanged the leotard and shirt for a black dance bra and black vest. I slicked back my hair into a sleek ponytail and pulled a hat low over my eyes. I wiped off the pink lipstick and left my lips neutral, but painted my eyelids black. It was a dramatic effect and exactly what I was going for.

We had to pick numbers and of course I chose the last slot, so I had a lot of time to wait around. We all were told we could sit in the auditorium seats if we wished to watch each other at this point, and I sat with my new-found “friends” from my original group, all of who had made it through the tap round. There was Pietre, the soft-spoken young boy; Dennis, the athletic black dancer; Leah the precocious redhead; and Markus, the handsome ex-principal. Markus was quite funny, and I enjoyed sitting next to him as we watched other dancers perform.

Slowly, our ranks got smaller and smaller as each dancer went onstage to perform and was subsequently dismissed. We wouldn’t be told if we had gotten the job until the next day, so this was our last real shot to make an impression. I wished Pietre, Dennis, Leah and Markus all good luck, and their solos were all amazing. It was going to be a tall order for the choreographers to make their decisions, whittling us down to just 30 core dancers.

And then it was my turn. There was no one else left to watch except the people judging me. But as I made my way up the stage stairs, I noticed someone standing in the wings, and realized it was Taron, waving at me and giving me a thumbs up.  _ Had he really stuck around this long to watch me? _ I was a little dumbstruck at that and ended up stumbling over my own name when I was asked to introduce myself, even though they had my audition sheet in front of them.  _ Get a grip _ , I chastised myself, stealing another glance at the wings. Despite the low light I could see Taron’s eyes glittering at me and I could feel his eyes following me as I took my place on the stage. I took a few slow breaths to still my mind, needing to go to that place where I was beyond my thoughts, where it was nothing but light and color and music.

I’d chosen Annie Lennox’s “Cold,” a song that was dreamy and ethereal and yet somehow heavy. Lines like  _ “Dying is easy/It’s living that scares me to death” _ and  _ “But the more I want you the less I get/Ain’t that just the way things are” _ hit me in the chest and had stayed with me ever since I heard the song, but when  _ “Catch me and let me dive under/For I want to swim in the pools of your eyes” _ the image of Taron flashed through my mind, and the words gained a new meaning as I couldn’t let go of the way he looked at me.

When the song ended and I had struck my final pose, the auditorium was dead silent; I could have heard a pin drop aside from my own heart beating. I stood back up and took a small bow, turning to leave because I didn’t think anyone was going to say anything before suddenly someone in the auditorium was clapping, the sound hollow in that giant space. I glanced over at the wing, but Taron wasn’t standing there anymore and for some reason that made me feel empty.

“Thank you for your time, that was lovely. We’ll phone you tomorrow,” one of the faceless shapes from the auditorium told me. I gave them my most winning smile and then was dismissed. I was sweaty, sore and exhausted by the time I gathered my bag up, changing once again into sweats and ready to just head home and tuck into a bowl of homemade Thai peanut chicken curry. I’d done my best and the rest was up to someone else. I had my hand on the exit door when someone called my name. I turned to see Taron jogging toward me, a bit out of breath.

“You were brilliant. They all said it in there, you should have heard them after you left,” he grinned. “You left us all absolutely speechless.”

“I, uhm, thank you,” I replied awkwardly, trying to wrap my mind around what he was telling me.

“You’re absolutely a shoe-in, no question, but you didn’t hear it from me,” he said, winking at me for the second time that day. I let out a nervous laugh at that. “I look forward to working with you, Juliette,” he added, and I couldn’t help my legs feeling a little weak at the way he said my name. I was glad I was still holding onto the door handle to steady myself. On second thought, this might be a major problem, I thought, but he was an actor and I was just a dancer and I didn’t think we’d be spending that much time on set together. Besides that, Taron was on a whole other level from me, so I figured he was only being kind.

“Me too,” I finally managed to reply. He bid me have a good night and then disappeared off down the hall, to do what I didn’t know but he seemed intensely focused on every aspect of this project. He had certainly left an impression on me though, and I could feel my cheeks were flushed.

I finally made my way to the tube station, taking it across the city to my flat and letting myself in gratefully, instantly greeted by my fluffy 2-year-old golden retriever Troy. “Hey boy, mommy’s home,” I grinned, ruffling his fur happily. Madison had stopped in earlier to check on him and let him out, and I was forever grateful to her. Mads had been my biggest cheerleader and supporter since I started working at DanceWorks, and I had never met a sweeter, kinder soul.

<Finally home. We’ll know results tomorrow. Everything seemed to go really well for me> I texted her as I tossed my sweaty dance clothes in the wash.

<Think you’ve got the job?> she asked back.

<Not sure, these things are never certain even if you feel good about it but I did my best and something tells me I impressed the choreographers> I wrote back.  _ Or rather someone, _ I thought, a small smile drawing across my face.

I set about making dinner, feeling half-starved now, and did my best to relax in front of the television, catching up with my favorite shows. I took Troy on a quick walk around the neighborhood in the late evening before finally taking a long soak in the freestanding bathing tub I’d invested good money in. There was nothing better after a long day of dance then letting my muscles unwind with lavender Epsom salts.

Tired and fully worn out, I stretched out in my bed, ready to catch some shut-eye but of course every time I closed my eyes I could see Taron’s handsome face floating in the dark. I wasn’t about to delude myself into thinking I had half a chance with Taron. From all accounts he was just an absolutely caring and sympathetic man and his co-workers always spoke so highly of working with him. But I could definitely say there was now more than one reason why I wanted the chance to dance on Rocketman.


	2. Contracts and Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you love the drama in this chapter as much as I loved writing it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slight cursing

My alarm went off far too early because I had spent most of the night tossing and turning with both nerves and excitement over my audition. I felt I had done well and made an impression; I knew I had worked my butt off, not only during the audition itself but also just to get there in the first place. I was tired enough to stop at Notes Coffee Roasters and pick up an iced latte, figuring I could spare the calories, on my way to my 6 a.m. aerobics class. I truly loved teaching but if there was one class I would gladly give up it would be aerobics; who in their right mind wanted to get up before the sun did just to sweat for 45 minutes? I was never awake enough for the cheeriness of my suburban football-mom students.

I’m pretty sure I sipped half of my latte down in one pull and groaned against the subsequent brain freeze as I opened up the studio. It took everything in me to summon up the energy to get through aerobics without shouting my instructions in a bitchy manner, and I was positively exhausted by the time I made it through conditioning, beginning basics, intermediate amateur, and one of my personal favorites, toddler tap. I mean, there was very little actual tapping going on, but the students always made up for it in the cuteness factor.

I eagerly checked my phone when I went on break but I hadn’t received the call I’d been hoping for. Mads and I quickly walked to our favorite lunch hideout, a place called Hemsley + Hemsley inside the Selfridges. I ordered my go-to cold-pressed green juice and we decided to share the orange-blossom-infused yogurt and honey-filled chestnut crepe.

“Any news?” Madison asked me as we tucked into our food and juices.

“Not yet. It’s killing me,” I admitted.

“So tell me, how did it go? You’ve got to fill me in!” she grinned. I told her all about the process and how I’d made some friends and hoped we all got in together before she asked me point blank if I’d run into anyone famous while at Paramount. My face flushed but before I could tell her about Taron my phone rang.

“It’s them!” I hissed at Mads in excitement, before picking up the call. “Hello?” I said, probably sounding way too eager.

“Hello love,” an incredibly familiar voice said on the other end, and I fairly choked on my pressed juice.

“Hi, hey,” I said, trying to recover. “Um … What do I owe this pleasure?” I asked awkwardly, and Taron just chuckled on the other end.

“I wanted to personally deliver the news myself that you’ve been selected as one of our dancers. So congratulations, love. I hope you’re very pleased, as I am,” he said with a grin in his voice.

_ Holy shit, _ I mouthed to Mads as she squealed in her seat, unaware of who exactly I was talking to.

“I ...yes, of course I’m incredibly excited,” I laughed after I managed to recover my composure. “I just wouldn’t have expected Paramount to make you their errand boy,” I teased. Mads gave me a funny look, desperate to know what was happening.

This earned a hearty laugh from Taron on the other end. “I asked to deliver the news personally,” he grinned. “You are, after all, my favorite dancer.”

“That’s entirely too kind of you to say,” I said, taken aback.

“Well I did sit through 40 solos just for the privilege to watch you dance so I feel I have a right to make that assessment,” he said lightly.

“Oh my God, I don’t deserve for you to think that,” I replied.

“Well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?” he said gently before clearing his throat. “So you can stop by the studios at your convenience today to fill out the contract and hopefully that will be amenable.”

“Good, of course,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with work.”

“Perfect. See you then,” he said nonchalantly. I wasn’t sure whether he actually meant that or it was just a standard thing to have said, but we took our good-byes and I sat there in dumbfounded silence until Mads couldn’t take it anymore.

“What is all of this?” she asked, making a circular motion in the air around my face, which was probably as red as a robin’s breast.

“I was getting to that part,” I laughed, hiding my face behind my hands for a second. “I ran into the film’s lead, Taron, when I was at auditions yesterday. Well, he actually opened a door into me, and I fell and it was spectacularly embarrassing,” I admitted with a laugh. “But somehow that possessed him to watch us all dance… Out of pity? I don’t know,” I shrugged as the incredulous look just grew on Madison’s face the more I rambled. “So anyway, he just called me to tell me I was cast as a dancer so... I’m in!” I squealed at that.

“Taron didn’t watch your ass dance out of sympathy, are you crazy?” Madison giggled. “He’s probably fancying you,” she said with a smirk, and I shook my head.

“No no no, we’re not even going there. Me, dancer. Him, actor. That’s like different species and different species don’t mix,” I laughed, as Madison threw an orange slice at me.

“You are so daft!” she laughed. “How can you not see when a boy likes you? You with your gorgeous strawberry-blonde locks and blue eyes and freckles. It’s disgusting, really. I just look like the boring brown blah ugly duckling next to you,” she said a bit wistfully, chin in her hand.

“Oh come on, Mads, you’re gorgeous. And it’s not like I exactly know how to pick ’em, considering Zayn and all,” I sighed, referring to my ex.

“Yes well, the world isn’t full of Zayns. He’s extra special,” she said, stabbing a bit of crepe with extra gusto and poking it in her mouth.

“If by extra special you mean extra wanker, then yeah,” I said, shaking my head as we both just giggled.

“Well I’m sure Taron’s not like that at all,” she said. “It’s not like I haven’t watched every YouTube interview out there,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “He seems incredibly sweet to people,” she pointed out. Leave it to my best friend to be obsessed with him; I had tried my hardest to convince her to audition with me but she said her skills outside of ballet were rusty at best and she would be just be embarrassing herself. I appreciated her teasing me about it though; I couldn’t deny Taron was handsome, though I didn’t exactly download every picture to my phone.

“He’s very nice, I can already tell that. And maybe he even thinks I’m pretty, sure. But we’re only co-cast members, you know, and I’ll just be in the background. He’s really the star. Besides, he doesn’t even know me. Not like we had a chat or anything. He had to call me by my bib number first, after all,” I laughed.

“Just never say never, Juliette. Life can surprise you,” Madison grinned at me. But I had already had plenty of surprises in my life, and I was ready to be done with that. We finished our lunch and made it back for afternoon classes; thankfully I only had two more to get through before I could head over to Paramount. I was absolutely knackered by the time I packed up my dance bag and pulled sweats on over my leotard and tights. I waved to Madison as I passed her classroom and she gave me a thumbs up before I headed to the tube station, responding to a few texts from my ex and feeling once again annoyed at his lack of responsibility. You see, I had to stay in contact with him because we both had one shared thing in common: A certain precocious 7-year-old daughter named Clara.

<You promised me you’d be able to watch her while I’m in rehearsals. I really need you to step up. This isn’t negotiable and mummy can’t watch her all the time either.> I texted back, sighing slightly to myself.

I knew relying on Zayn had been a bad idea to begin with, as he’d never proven himself mature enough to handle being a father in any regular capacity. He’d do well for a couple months and then fall off the map again, drinking and losing his job and couch-surfing with friends. But for Clara to not know her father had made me feel like a terrible person, so every time he came around promising that he’d cleaned up I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I hardly knew what it was to not be disappointed in a man any more.

<I know, and I will. It’s just for tonight, Letty, we have these tickets…>

<Yeah and those excuses don’t cut it, Zayn. It’s always excuses. Your daughter is more important than some show. She needs a father so I can stop explaining at school why this completely bright student has behavioral issues. But you would know that if you were involved.> I rubbed my temple, annoyed and too exhausted to have this fight all over again.

<You’re absolutely right, actually. I’ll cancel the plans and try to sell the tickets. Sorry to bother you.> He texted back, and I groaned slightly. Of course now I felt like the asshole, and it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy time with my daughter.

<I appreciate the offer, I do. But you should go. Just drop Clara off with my mum and I’ll get her on my way home. But I need you to pick her up first thing in the morning for school and don’t be late this time.>

<You’re an absolute saint, Letty> He sent back, making me cringe at the pet name he had given me that now left a bad taste in my mouth. I sighed and texted my mum a head’s up about the change in plans, grateful for everything she had done for me and Clara over the years. I don’t know what I would have done without her help, to be sure. Being a single mum had proven incredibly challenging and I wasn’t sure how I would have been able to afford child care and rent on my meager paychecks. I probably would have had to give up dance but my mum knew how important that dream had always been for me. I had more stability now then when I was performing, but that didn’t mean the challenge to give Clara a stable life didn’t remain.

I was lost in thought by the time I arrived at Paramount, but I tried to put all of that aside so I could focus on the task at hand. I’d also received a steady stream of excited texts from Leah, Pietre, Dennis and Markus; all five of us had made it onto the cast and it felt like a bit of a celebration. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going but helpful signs had been posted about on the walls, so I followed the giant black arrows through the maze of halls until I arrived at a lobby, where a couple other dancers were sat waiting.

“Juliette!” someone called my name. I spied Markus against the wall, waving at me and I happily jogged over to sit next to him as he moved his bag out of the way. “I saved you a seat,” he said, flashing me a grin of exceptionally perfect, white teeth. While we chatted about our mutual love of ballet and our tragic falls from grace [Markus, too, had experienced a career-ending injury] as principals, I noticed up-close that his eyes were a lovely shade of pale grey. I’d never quite seen eyes like that before, and I couldn’t help feeling a bit mesmerized by both his gaze and his instant charm. It was nice to feel like someone was on my level and could understand what I’d fought through to get here. Other dancers came and went, and when Markus was finally called back to the office I texted Madison furiously about him, unashamedly giggly about it.

<Does someone have a bit of a crush or what?> Madison teased me lightly.

<You don’t get it, he’s rather dishy and so charming and suave. And he gets me.> I wrote back.

<Yeah and what about Taron?> Mads asked.

<What about him? He’s nice to me, nothing more.>

<Yeah sure. But don’t give me any more of that “He’s an actor and would NEVER notice a dancer like me” bullshit because I’m not buying it.>

<Besides, if Taron’s here I haven’t seen him. And what am I supposed to do anyway, hang them up next to each other side-by-side and compare their traits?>

<Just don’t be blind to what could be good for you, that’s all.>

<AND Clara. Don’t forget, this is a packaged deal.> I wrote back, smiling as my mum sent me a sweet Snapchat of my daughter playing piano. She finished the song and, beaming into the camera, smiled, waved and announced that she was going to be as good as Elton some day, which made me laugh softly. I’m glad my mum and I had passed down our impeccable taste in music already to my daughter; it was so much better than the trash punk her father listened to.

I happened to look up just then and saw Taron leaning into the lobby from the doorway, clearly searching for someone, and his face brightened as soon as he spotted me. He strode in and despite the obvious gasps of recognition from the other dancers there, he beelined straight for me. I was both flattered and embarrassed about that fact, all too aware of the jealous expressions tossed my way.

“You made it!” Taron grinned at me, as if he’d been worried I would have decided against this whole thing.

“Of course,” I laughed, adjusting in my seat at the same time he surprised me with a hug so I nearly knocked my head into his teeth. “Shit, sorry,” I apologized but he must have found my awkwardness amusing because he laughed and shrugged it off.

“Continuing that klutzy streak I see?” he teased, raising a characteristic eyebrow at me.

“Always,” I said with a laugh. “Truly don’t know how I stay employed at the dance studio, to be honest,” I continued the rolling joke.

“Oh, do you teach?” he asked, earnestly curious in me.

“Yeah, mostly young kids,” I smiled at that. “I really do love it, getting to inspire the next generation of dancers.”

“I can see that,” he studied me for a moment, and I had to look away from the intensity of his green eyes. “You always seem so passionate about it, I can’t imagine that not translating to every area of your life.”

I was about to respond but just then Markus returned and somehow seemed to have a double-take when he noticed Taron sitting in his vacated seat next to me. He came over to me and, right in front of Taron, told me he looked forward to dancing alongside me and then point-blank asked me if I wanted to get drinks with him some time. I felt absolutely flustered at his offer and managed to stammer out a ‘yes, sure, love to’ before Markus leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Cheerio,” he smiled to me, flicking the tip of my nose lightly before sweeping out of the room.

“Well that was a production, wasn’t it,” Taron remarked, the buzz of something low in his voice.

“Mmm, dancers are dramatic,” I tried to laugh, but Taron was no longer smiling.

“Tell me about it, love, I’m an actor. I get being dramatic but that was something else,” he replied, giving me a slight chill down my back, but I had absolutely no time to react because my name was called then.

“I should … get in there,” I said softly, as Taron rearranged his expression and put a smile on his face. If I hadn’t been so focused on him I might have lost the nuance of that.

“Of course you should,” he replied with a nod. I got up and walked into the office, Taron’s steely gaze following after me. I did my best to focus on the contract terms and everything that would be required of me as I signed form after nondisclosure form, but something had just happened back there that I was having trouble deciphering. I figured I should probably run it by Mads because she seemed to have a knack for understanding people. I was still distracted by the time I finished the paperwork and was handed a stack of information and rehearsal schedules, and so when I exited the lobby and turned the corner I ran straight into Taron, managing to drop my stack of papers all over the hallway floor.

“Jesus Churchill Jones, what are you doing here?” I asked in surprise, as Taron crouched down and picked up my papers for me.

“I thought I’d walk you out, if that was alright?” he asked. “I know you were weirded out earlier and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, if a little miffed,” I shrugged as we started walking back through the labyrinth of halls toward the exit, Taron still carrying my papers. I realized that I was just inherently trusting Taron to lead the way, figuring he already knew the place like the back of his hand.

“It just seemed a bit possessive to me, the way that dancer acted toward you,” Taron tried to explain.

“Possessive? How?” I laughed lightly at that. “Markus and I got on quite well before you showed up.”

“But that’s exactly it. He shouldn’t have felt threatened by me at all. I’ve just seen it before,” he said, his eyes trained on the floor. But then he reached out for my hand and stopped me, turning me to face him. “I’m saying this completely as a friend, just be careful with him.” There was something so deeply vulnerable in the way that Taron was looking at me that I felt I had to take what he said seriously. I couldn’t detect any ulterior motives there, so I filed the warning away in my mind and half-wondered if Taron could sense my weakness for men who seemed so polished on the outside but could secretly be snakes.

“I’ll be careful,” I said, as much to make Taron feel better as to remind myself. We continued walking, as I asked how things were going with him. He filled me in on everything he had to accomplish as filming neared, learning the piano, working new arrangements of the music, and all of the pre-production work that had to happen. It really kind of amazed me how dedicated he was to the project, and even more so how highly he spoke of Elton himself.

“Well, I should stop boring you,” Taron chuckled as we arrived at the exit doors, but I shook my head.

“You’re absolutely not a bore. I’m sure I could listen to you talk about it for hours on end,” I smiled genuinely at that.

“If we both weren’t so busy, maybe I’d ask a certain dancer to have dinner with me some time so then I could truly bore her for hours,” he said with a wink, his demeanor completely changed from earlier. He was at once adorably flirtatious with me, and I couldn’t help but swoon slightly.

“Maybe she might just say she’d love to,” I grinned back. He fished a pen out of his pocket and scrawled his phone number across the top of the stack of papers before handing them to me.

“We’ll plan it… eventually,” he grinned before giving me the “call me” gesture and making me laugh.

I took my leave, Taron holding the door for me as the perfect gentleman he was and waving to me long after I’d hurried down the street. I felt my heart warring inside of me a bit, and I had no idea what I was supposed to think. With these thoughts burning into my soul, I took the train across London to pick up my sweet daughter. At least I still had that to look forward to, I thought as I made sure to transfer Taron’s number into my phone before I forgot or misplaced it.

<Hey, it’s me, your favorite dancer!> I sent a quick text, just so he had my number as well and definitely not expecting the immediate reply I got back.

<And saved. If you send me a pic I’ll add it to your profile.> My stomach suddenly lit on fire with nerves at that, for no bloody reason at all. I had all of my contacts with photos, so it only made sense that Taron might as well. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the request but the idea of sending him my face made me feel some kind of way. I swiped through my pictures, most of them stupid selfies, but I finally decided on the professional headshot I’d had taken for the audition. I felt it showed the best of me, and I looked half-decent enough, dare I say pretty. The photographer had at least had the sense to focus on one of my best features; my blue eyes stood out like sapphires.

Taron immediately sent me back one of his own, a decidedly more personal shot but he looked gorgeous none-the-less. I attached the photo to his profile and then stashed my phone for a moment, needing to focus on my daughter as I hopped off the train at my stop and dashed for my mum’s house. I let myself in and found them in the kitchen, my daughter drawing a picture that she immediately abandoned as soon as she saw me.

“Mummy’s here!” she squealed, running into my waiting arms and hugging me tightly. “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, my darling,” I said, running my fingers through her tangled bright red curls; where she got that color was beyond me, but I loved it. “How was school?” I asked.

“A bit of a bore, really. Teacher says I’m too smart for my class,” she added importantly.

“Hmm, well, hopefully you didn’t sass her too much,” I sighed, giving my mum a knowing glance.

“I didn’t!” she said, putting her little hands on her hips.

“I’ll have to have a talk with your school when I can fit it in about moving you a grade, but otherwise I guess you’ll just have to pretend to not be bored, Clara-bean,” I said with a laugh. “Don’t want all the other students to think you’re a know-it-all.”

“They already think that, mum,” she said dramatically, to which my mum shook her head.

“Perhaps you ought to put her in the performing arts academy instead,” she pointed out as I bit my thumb in thought.

“You’ve got a fair point, mum,” I smiled. “Thanks for watching her, again. I’d say I owe you but at this point the debt is quite unpayable.”

“Oh hush now, Juliette. I will never turn down time with my grand,” she said, giving Clara a hug and helping her clean up her mess on the kitchen table while I took a chance to use the toilet.

<Mads… I’ve got to phone you as soon as I get Clara down to sleep tonight!> I fired off a quick text.

<Oohh did something happen?> she asked immediately.

<You could say that. Things have got a fair bit confusing.> She sent back a couple emojis and question marks and I sighed. <It’s too long to type out. Just have your phone on you.>

<Forget phoning me, I’ll bring the wine. 8:30 okay?>

<God I love you. See you then.> I finished my business in the toilet and made sure my daughter had all of her things before we took the tube back to our home. I made dinner, we took Troy out for his evening walk, and soon I was getting my daughter bathed and brushed and ready for bed. I read her a small story and tucked her in, kissing her forehead sweetly as she hugged her plushie unicorn to her. I couldn’t help wishing that I wasn’t the only one bidding her sweet dreams and turning off the light; what I wouldn’t give to have a man in the picture who wanted to be there for us both. But that felt as much a fantasy as the unicorns I’d just finished reading about.

I checked my phone and had a couple missed texts from Markus, just sweet messages making sure I’d made it in for the night. I texted back in affirmation and wondered if Taron had totally missed the mark; I hadn’t gotten any weird vibe from Markus until I ended up between them both.

I had just gotten the dishes cleaned up and put away when Mads rang. I popped open the door and let her in; she was carrying three bottles of wine, which made me laugh. There was no way we were going to drink that much; we both had early classes to teach in the morning. Still, I retrieved a bottle opener and glasses and we popped each of them open, having a sip and agreeing that the moscato was the best option.

“So tell me!” she said, sitting cross-legged on the couch and sipping her wine as I did my best to retell the whole scenario, her eyes growing wide and then wider after I told her I now had Taron’s number too.

“They had a mental cockfight over you,” Madison giggled over her glass of wine.

“What? You’re insane, no. No… right?” I said. “No…that’s crazy,” I added for good measure. 

“To be fair, it sounds like this Markus started it,” she smirked. “But Taron totally dished.”

“Ugh, English please,” I sighed.

“They both like you and tried to outdo each other,” she rolled her eyes. “I can practically see the puffed-up chests now.”

“Stop,” I laughed, throwing a cork at her and making her squeal. “That is not how it went down. Taron was trying to warn me, as a friend.”

“As a future person who wants to get in your pants,” she smirked, waggling her eyebrows at me.

“Mads, you’re making me mental!” I said, tossing the rest of my wine back and nearly choking as the liquor hit my throat. “It wasn’t like that with him. You didn’t see the way he was trying to look out for me.”

“In all seriousness, babes, I think you should really consider your options here.”

“My options. You say that like I have them, like I could just choose,” I said with a huff.

“Well they both asked you out, didn’t they?” she grinned, not remotely fazed by my tone. “See who impresses you more. That’s what I would do.”

“Date two guys at once?” I laughed, shaking my head. “Isn’t that a bit scandalous? I don’t wish to shame my mum.”

“It’s only dating if you call it that,” she smirked lightly.

“Oh Mads, you’re devious, aren’t you,” I said, shaking my head.

“Just live a little, Juliette. You’ve been banging on about how awful Zayn is for 6 years now. You might as well try and move on.” I couldn’t deny that she had a point there. Maybe the distraction would be a good thing.

“And what about Clara?” I asked softly. “I have to consider her.”

“She will be fine. Kids are resilient and adaptable, far more than we are. And as far as Markus or Taron are concerned, cross that bridge when it comes, you know? Just start from the beginning. Go to drinks, go to dinner. Have some fun. The good Queen herself knows you need it.”

We talked and drank some more, far more than we should have, and Madison ended up crashing on my couch because she was too wine-sick to get herself home. But I truly didn’t mind; it wasn’t our first and wouldn’t be our last late-night chat, and Clara considered her an auntie. I gently pulled a blanket around her snoozing form and made sure she was comfortable before shutting the lights off, a small headache beginning to throb. I got myself ready and changed into jammies before crawling in under the covers, bumping my phone slightly and causing the screen to illuminate. I had a text from Taron waiting, his face smiling out at me. I quickly opened it, my heart beating a tiny bit faster as I tried to focus my drunken, exhausted eyes enough to read the text.

<Get ready to dance, love. It’s going to be a wild ride. Sweet dreams.>

“Holy. Shit,” I breathed out loud, closing my eyes and totally unable to process what he meant. But oh, was I thrilled. A part of me felt more alive and excited than I had in probably ten years, when boys still meant adventure and romance and sex and love and sunsets on the beach and drinking too much and making out in the backseat and all of those magical things I felt I had given up on. To feel that breathless anticipation again made my world shift on its axis. The problem, of course, was that I wasn’t exactly sure who had caused that shift.


	3. Caught in the Middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slight cursing, mentions of sex

I had never felt so tired in all my life. Or so happy.

I knew balancing work, rehearsals and being a mum would be difficult but I had completely underestimated how exhausting it would also be. Still, I wouldn’t have given up my chance to dance for Rocketman for the world, and somehow my daughter intrinsically gathered that her mummy was doing something inherently “cool” and managed to not give me too much grief when I fell asleep at the supper table. On more than one occasion in the past two weeks.

Still, we managed to fall into a rhythm with me actually getting dinner on the table and helping Clara get her homework done and off to bed at a reasonable hour, and after a lot of bitching on my part, my ex started picking up the slack, which gave me more time to actually sleep. I hated missing out on those evenings with Clara when she was with Zayn but I also knew it was temporary, and I needed to still take care of myself too.

Which is what I was doing that very evening, sitting on the bathroom floor and unwrapping the blood-soaked gauze from my poor feet. I sucked in my breath as I treated the various blisters I’d collected. Yes, even though I danced for a living, I could still end up with battered feet the same as any novice dancer. I hadn’t spent a lot of time in character shoes and my feet weren’t happy about it. I ran some bath water, poured in some epsom salts, and perched on the edge of the tub as I soaked my feet, sighing at the mild relief this afforded me.

Just then my phone pinged with a text, and I reached over to grab it from the sink.

<Rich and I will be in “Honky Cat” rehearsals tomorrow. I have to admit, I’m feeling rather nervous but it will be nice to have a familiar face there.>

I couldn’t help but grin at that. Taron and I had become fast friends over the past couple of weeks. Any time he saw me in the studio he’d stop to chat and was just engaging and charming always, even when he looked beyond tired. I appreciated his sort of positive manner and the way he was kind to literally everyone. He had confided in me about his insecurity over his dancing ability, and even commented that he wasn’t sure he was going to love it, but knowing I’d be there made it feel a little less like a chore. Every time he said something like that I wasn’t exactly sure how to take it.

<We’ll take it easy on you, promise! It won’t be so bad, you’ll see> I texted back with a small smile.

<Yes well, me in tap shoes is an absolute recipe for disaster> Taron texted back, and I had to disagree. It would probably be exceedingly sexy, but I wouldn’t exactly be telling him I thought that.

<As long as you don’t fall on your ass, I’m sure no one will laugh> I teased him lightly.

<There are no guarantees> he replied, making me shake my head and also suddenly start thinking about his ass, which I didn’t need any help with drooling over. He’d alluded more than once to how large he thought his ass was, but I just couldn’t see it. Sure, he was never going to be a lanky man, but that didn’t fit the bill for everyone and I personally thought he was rather fit.

We texted for a little bit longer but I was so knackered that I decided to call it a night shortly after. Dancing already took a lot out of you and required a lot of energy and sweat equity; trying to do that exhausted and semi-braindead was the true recipe for disaster. 

Still, I was excited for tomorrow’s rehearsals. We’d already been working on our “Honky Cat” sequence, as obviously our choreography was more involved than what Taron or Richard Madden would have to learn. I’d yet to meet Richard, though he was all the other girls could talk about. Apparently he was rather handsome but I really only had eyes for Taron, even though we would likely only ever be friends.

I crawled into bed gratefully and crashed hard, having a strange dream where the dancers were actually human-size cats dancing around in sequined, sparkling regalia and waking up semi-amused and also slightly terrified. I grabbed my jar of overnight oats and ate them on the tube as I made my way across town to the now-familiar Paramount studios.

I joined everyone else in warming up, stretching out my long legs in a split, trying to stay loose. The older I got, the more of a battle that ended up being. I chatted lightly with Markus, who I’d gotten to know even better as he stretched next to me. A lot of times the five of us, including Dennis, Pietre and Leah, took our meal breaks together and had come to be quite close friends. I was nervous, for some reason, to be rehearsing with Taron and Richard, though I had no idea why that made me nervous. Maybe it was simply because I didn’t know what to expect with the two.

“So I was thinking we could maybe get drinks later tonight. I’m finally free,” Markus said, breaking into my thoughts.

“Hmmm?” I asked, shaking my head. “Oh, right, yes… We should,” I smiled, remembering that I’d promised to do that with him. “That would be nice. Just tell me when and where,” I said sweetly as Markus’ eyes fairly raked over my body in the leotard and sweatpants I was wearing.

I think he was about to respond but then our choreographer and assistants entered the room, and along with them, Taron and Richard. Somehow Taron’s gaze managed to find mine across the room, and he gave me a sweet smile as the choreographer called us all to attention. He introduced Taron and Richard to us [as if we didn’t know who they were already] and I managed to see several girls pretending to fan themselves. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes slightly at their behavior. Just because I found Taron sexy didn’t mean I was going to let anyone else know it.

We soon got down to business, running through our choreography as Taron and Richard were led through their various parts in all of it. Taron seemed engaged and curious, while Richard was quieter and perhaps more observant.

There were multiple facets of the Honky Cat sequence. At one point the choreo required all the men as tailors and waiters; at another, several of us girls were selected for a dressing room-type setup. I was one of the lucky few chosen for that part, and I had a burning curiosity to know whether Taron had anything to do with that. The part we were working on today, though, was the last finale number, which included tap shoes, top hats and a lot of flamboyance.

To their credit, Taron and Richard put in a hell of an effort though it was obvious neither of them were natural dancers. But they laughed at themselves often and didn’t take it too seriously when they totally messed up, and by the time a break was called we were all a bit out of breath and I had the chorus stuck on endless repeat in my head.

“Hey! You’re doing great!” I grinned as I walked over to Taron. His face lit up as soon as he saw me, and when I came near he threw his arm around me casually.

“Well I haven’t completely disgraced myself yet, you mean,” he laughed. “Have you met Richard yet?” he added, as Richard actually extended his hand out to me, so I took it gingerly and he placed a kiss on my hand. I could literally feel the glaring daggers from the other girls behind me.

“Hi, it’s Juliette. It’s so nice to meet you. Taron’s only gone on and on about you,” I said, making Richard laugh. He had a rather cute chuckle and I could see his curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. Let me tell you, it wasn’t a bad look on him, but I also couldn’t forget the fact that Taron’s arm was around me like we were just old chums. He probably wasn’t thinking about how it would look to anyone else in the room.

“Has he now?” Richard grinned.

“Guilty as charged,” Taron just smirked.

“Not remotely surprised,” Richard bantered right back in that accent of his; I could understand how he made girls literally melt. It was also fun to see Taron and Richard’s obvious camaraderie as we chatted a bit longer before needing to get back to rehearsals. 

I was honestly impressed with the amount of energy and enthusiasm Taron (especially) and Richard gave during rehearsals, if not actual skill. Sometimes effort made up for a lack of actual technicality, at least in the entertainment aspect, and I already knew this movie was going to be entertaining as hell.

Taron, of course, caught up with me as we were packing up to leave. I had two afternoon classes to get to before I was free for the evening, so my lessons were on my mind and I was in a bit of a hurry to get across the city. “Hey, you seem busy,” he said, walking along with me as I headed toward the exit.

“I’ve got two classes to teach still,” I explained. “No rest for the weary, it seems,” I smiled.

“No, I guess not,” he said, looking as if he had something on his mind but had decided not to ask.

“Did you have something to ask me, or …?” I asked, turning to him slightly.

“Oh, it’s probably not important,” he said, shaking his head. “And I really don’t want to add to your workload.”

“If you were about to ask me for help with the choreo, I’d love to. Text me later and we can figure out a time, yeah?” I grinned, and he looked both surprised I had sussed it out and also relieved that I had already agreed to it.

“You’re brilliant. Thank you,” he said, biting his lip slightly, making his adorable dimples pop out.

“Yeah, gotta run, but we’ll talk!” I grinned, waving and pushing my way out into the still-too-warm day. I made it through classes, texting with Taron off and on until we finally agreed on a plan. I didn’t actually have rehearsals the next day, so he agreed to meet me at work after I was done teaching, and we’d have one of the studios to ourselves.  _ Nothing could go wrong with that, right? _

I had just enough time to run home, shower, scarf some dinner and try to get ready for my date with Markus. I put on a cute floral dress and a jean jacket over that and pulled on a pair of white slip-on sneaks. I felt effortlessly cute and was excited to spend some time outside of rehearsal with Markus. We had some kind of chemistry and I was curious to see exactly what that meant for us. As Madison had told me, it was time to finally move on from Zayn.

I had agreed to meet up with Markus at a basement cocktail bar called “Happiness Forgets” over in Shoreditch. The place was pricey and popular, and was bustling when I arrived, but Markus found me immediately, sliding his arm around my back and escorting me to the seat he’d saved for me. He looked amazing in tight jeans and a plaid shirt, a grey beanie pulled over his hair and making those steely grey eyes of his stand out.

We ordered drinks and had to lean in quite close to hear each other over the din of the place. The conversation flowed pretty easily and he really made me laugh. I was feeling myself start to relax as I finished my first drink and ordered a second. A couple of times, though, I caught myself thinking things like  _ “I wonder what Taron would think about that,” _ and I had to wonder what was wrong with me. I tried to make myself focus on Markus and only Markus, because thinking about anyone else wasn’t fair to him.

The night wore on and I admittedly got a fair bit more drunk than I had intended. I was having trouble standing, actually, and was leaning heavily on Markus. “My place is really close to here. Maybe we should just head there first, let you sober up a bit?” he offered, and I nodded at that. Anything to make the room stop spinning would be good. I don’t remember much of the taxi ride to Markus’ flat, to be honest, other than thinking he was absolutely hilarious. God, I was such an idiotic drunk.

He made me sit on his couch and brought me some water, and then sat really close to me, his hand on my bare knee as I sipped the water and tried to focus on his face. We talked briefly - I don’t remember what was said now - before he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it didn’t light a fire in me either. But it’d been a while since I’d kissed any boy, and I was drunk and I think just wanting to get it over with. So our kisses turned into a lot more, and somehow we ended up in the bedroom together.

He’d pulled my underwear off and shoved my dress above my hips, and he must have been pretty drunk too because otherwise he might have noticed that I wasn’t really into what was happening. I remember wondering if I really wanted to sleep with Markus, but then he was on top of me and pushing inside me and I didn’t tell him no.  _ Did I want this? Did I want him? Or was there someone else on my mind? _

I woke up the next morning with my head pounding, alone in the bed. I was disoriented and my mouth was dry. I sat up, still in my dress from the night before and feeling sore between my legs. I groaned as images from the night before started to come back to me. I rolled out of bed and retrieved my underwear from the floor, pulling them up before going to look for the bathroom. The flat was small, so that wasn’t hard to find. I did my business and then looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess, my makeup smudged and I felt like a cheap whore. That wasn’t exactly the outcome I had been hoping for. Even worse, I couldn’t actually remember if my paramour had used a condom. How I was always getting into these situations was beyond me, but I was feeling pretty low about myself. 

I scrubbed my face and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself look a little less awful before going into the main room. Markus was in the kitchen, the sound of something sizzling making my stomach turn. The last thing I could think about was food. Markus came out and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me sweetly, obviously a lot happier about how things had gone than I was. I plastered a smile on my face for him anyway.

“Hey sleepyhead. How are you feeling?” he asked me.

“Hungover as hell, to be honest,” I sighed, rubbing my forehead as he went to retrieve some painkillers and orange juice for me.  _ He was being so sweet to me, so why did I feel so sour? _ I thought with a sigh. 

It was still early, which meant I wasn’t going to be late for classes, so at least I had that going for me. I put on my best performance for Markus, trying to keep up with his small talk until I could excuse myself without seeming rude. I had no idea what was wrong with me; I’d truly enjoyed his company. He was funny, engaging, and easy on the eyes too. Any girl would be happy to be with him, I was certain. Even worse, he had actually been sweet to me after the fact. Maybe I would have felt better if he’d treated me how I felt on the inside. These thoughts stayed with me the entire rest of the day, and I was exhausted by keeping up a cheery persona through my entire roster of classes.

I had completely forgotten about agreeing to help Taron until he showed up at the dance academy, asking for me at the front desk. They’d sent him up to my studio and I jumped when he peeked his head around the door.

“Oh my goodness, hi,” I said, feeling at once flustered and somehow not prepared, even though there really wasn’t anything to be prepared for. I didn’t like getting caught off guard, but Taron also hadn’t done anything wrong so I tried to once again stuff my irritation with myself down deep.

“Juliette, your student awaits,” he giggled cutely, holding out his arms in a grand gesture before taking in my countenance. I had at least managed to grab a shower on my break, but I still must have looked rough because his brow wrinkled in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just exhausted, Taron, but it’s the usual lately,” I said, trying to muster a smile for him.

“We could always reschedule,” he said, walking softly across the hardwood floor. “I’m more concerned about you right now.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you, but I promise I’m fine. Dancing will help me forget I’m so tired,” I grinned.  _ Yeah, dancing with Taron specifically would help me forget my troubles _ , I thought, as we wired his phone into the studio’s speakers. He’d managed to smuggle out a copy of Honky Cat and made me promise not to tell anyone, which just made me giggle.  _ Such a rebel. _

“Who am I going to tell, Taron Egerton,  _ my mum _ ?” I asked, making him chuckle at that.

“Well, mum’s the word, m’dear,” he snickered, and his joy instantly lifted my mood.

“Very punny,” I laughed despite myself. “Alright, let’s get something done, shall we?”

We went to work and probably laughed more than Taron actually danced, but I was able to help make some sense out of certain movements for him, things that weren’t natural in the way we normally walked or moved our bodies. Learning that dance language took years to perfect, but I loved seeing the lightbulb go off in his mind; his face was always just so expressive so it was obvious when something clicked for him. I enjoyed how much of a natural performer he was also; I’m sure some of the funny faces he pulled were only for my benefit that day, but he was the most joyous person I’d ever been around.

There was one movement he was struggling with, though, and I crouched down to help explain it. I was so used to physically correcting my students that I don’t think I exactly thought it through when I put my hand square against his hip and told him to give me his leg. I was grateful he wasn’t looking at me because I was blushing hard.

He shifted his weight into his right as I tugged his foot up, making him bend his knee. He tottered like that for a brief moment, trying to figure out his balance, and cursed slightly when he started to fall and had to catch himself but then crashed into me slightly. “Fuck, I’m sorry!” he gasped, embarrassed and red-faced but I had to laugh.

“Taron, you’re not the first guy that’s fallen on me,” I teased, waving it off and realizing how very close our faces were now as we stared at each other. He had his hands on my shoulders to steady himself, but then dropped them awkwardly to his sides.

“Still, I feel like I should apologize,” he admitted, and I shook my head.

“Nonsense. It happens. And no one would feel comfortable in platform tap shoes anyway. I think you’re doing brilliantly, and that you wanted to work on this outside of rehearsals shows how much you care. Now, let’s try it again.”

We worked on that sequence more than a few times, and I think he was getting it by the time I decided we should take a water break. He left to use the restroom and I grabbed my phone, checking it in case I had any updates on Clara I needed to attend to. Instead I had several texts from Markus asking me when we might get together again. The idea of it actually made me slightly apprehensive, but I gave a non-committal “soon! Look forward to it” and figured that wouldn’t actually be happening soon because we were both incredibly busy with rehearsals and teaching. Dating as an adult in my 30s was so completely different then it ever had been when I was younger. I didn’t realize all the time I used to have back then that actually belonged to me; now it was just enough to get myself fed and showered and keep my flat some semblance of not a total disaster.

I must have been extremely lost in thought because I didn’t hear Taron return until he had taken a seat next to me on the floor, crossing his legs and tipping his water bottle back. “Going to tell me what’s bothering you now?” he asked gently.

I wanted to lie and say everything was great, but the way he was looking over at me, studying my face in his introspective way, told me he’d already determined I was using this session to run away from my problems.

“I went out with Markus last night. We had sex, and now I feel awful,” I blurted out. I have no idea what possessed me to tell him that much, but I also intrinsically knew I could trust him. And somehow, it made me feel better to get that off my chest too.

“Why do you feel awful. He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Taron said, narrowing his eyes for a moment but I vehemently shook my head.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just, I was very drunk and I’m not sure I would have made that choice had I been completely sober,” I admitted. “But the thing is, there’s nothing wrong with Markus, and I enjoyed his company a lot. And I don’t know if there’s just something wrong with, well, me.”

“What? Of course there isn’t anything wrong with you, Juliette. You don’t have to be physically into every guy you go out to drinks with,” he said, reaching over and grabbing my hand supportively. And it was comforting, that one small gesture. “That doesn’t make you wrong. It makes you human, and full of emotions and desires that don’t have to make sense to anyone else.”

I’m not sure what response I had expected from Taron, maybe to assume something bad about Markus? But he had said nothing of the sort, was only protective and supportive of me and how I was feeling. I looked over at him, searching his gaze for something but I wasn’t really sure what.

“You are crazy talented, and have the most generous heart when it comes to your students, and your beauty is beyond my ability to describe,” he spoke in a whisper. But the way he drew goosebumps over my skin without a single touch, he might as well have been shouting them in a megaphone. Oh, I heard him loud and clear, my breath catching in my throat like I’d just done 18 fouettes in a row.

“You can’t possibly mean that about me,” I whispered back.

“Oh but I do, and I’ve thought it ever since I saw you dance. Your spirit just commands the space. I don’t even think you’re aware of that, but you put all of who you are out there. You’re not afraid to just  _ be _ in that moment, completely and unapologetically who you are. And it’s both admirable and breath-taking. Maybe no one else has taken the time to look, but I have, and I see you.”

The tension in the room couldn’t have been heavier at the moment, as I crashed so suddenly into feelings I’d been holding back, feelings I wouldn’t allow because there was no way Taron would have returned them. Only right now, the words he was speaking said otherwise.

“We should get back to our rehearsal,” I said a bit weakly, closing my eyes for a moment, almost as if to break the spell his green eyes had put me under.

It didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, I had leaned in and he met me the rest of the way, kissing me so gently, so achingly sweetly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever really been kissed before. And then I kissed him back, and his hand gently tangled in my hair, and the room started to spin in a completely different way. We got lost in the feeling of our lips against one another’s, our breaths mingling as an entirely new facet of our relationship opened up before us. I could have kissed him forever, but we had to breathe at some point, and we were both panting when we pulled away. I giggled shyly, covering my mouth with my hand and at a total loss for words. I had just made out with Taron freaking Egerton, and I just wanted to do it some more.

“Holy shit, I’m so… I didn’t mean… I mean, was that okay?” he asked me, eyes wide and looking a bit shell-shocked himself, like he had no idea what had gotten into himself.

“Better than okay,” I nodded, a bit breathlessly.

“I don’t want to be taking advantage of you being emotional or anything,” he said, stuttering a bit over his words.

“Taron, just stop. I know you wouldn’t be like that,” I smiled, slowly running my fingers over my lips, which were still tingling. “I’ve been feeling this for weeks about you.”

“You have?” he asked, the surprise evident in his voice. Clearly, I’d done a good job at acting indifferent toward him but the last bits of my resolve had already crumbled away.

“I mean, it’s hard to not be curious. We clearly get along really well. And the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I’ve wanted to know about who you really are away from the cameras.”

“So, how about that dinner we talked about? I could bore you for hours about all of that,” he said with an adorable grin. “Let me prove I’m more of a gentleman than I just showed you,” he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair a bit shyly.

“How about Saturday?” I smiled; his nervousness as he fidgeted with his hands was cute.

“Yeah, perfect. I’ll pick you up, so just text me your address,” he said.

“I can take the tube, it’s no big deal,” I laughed.

“But it is to me. I don’t make my ladies get themselves about town. You’ll be properly escorted, m’dear,” he said, smirking at me slightly.

“I can’t argue with that,” I said, genuinely excited about it and looking forward to some one-on-one time with Taron not at the studios. There was so much I still wanted to know about him, and he still didn’t know about Clara yet either. I figured dinner might be the best time to bring it up, lay the cards on the table so the speak.

“So, shall we get back to this rehearsal of ours, then?” I laughed. “We aren’t stopping until you get that sequence down perfectly,” I smirked as he groaned playfully. I stood up and offered my hand. “Well come on, princess,” I teased, pulling him to his feet as he laughed over that.

We finished our practice, sweaty and out of breath and also feeling pretty good about where we were both at. He thanked me so sweetly for helping him out and I could only hope he was feeling more confident than before. He kept me company as I locked the place up and even dared to kiss me on the cheek after walking me out of the studio.

We took our good-byes and as I rode the tube across town, the feeling of his lips against my skin lingered long after we had parted ways. I picked up Clara from my mum’s and after making dinner, helping with homework, taking Troy for his evening walkies, and getting my daughter tucked in for the night, I finally phoned Madison, who was simply dying for an update. 

“I can’t take it anymore! You have to tell me how last night went!” she squealed without even a hello when she picked up the call. Wednesdays were always a day off for her, so we hadn’t run into each other at the studio or I’m sure I would have already had to recount all of this.

“Well, it’s been a hell of a night and day, I can tell you that,” I laughed softly. “Last night was… well, drinks were fine, I was enjoying the night but I got way too drunk and ended up at Markus’ flat.”

“Oh no,” Mads replied sympathetically, knowing where this was going. Look, I can only apologize so much for having a predictable history.

“So yeah, drinks turned very quickly into sex,” I sighed, having almost forgotten how bad that had made me feel after Taron had managed to lift my spirits.

“You don’t sound pleased. Was he just bad?” she asked.

“I couldn’t tell you. I barely remember it. I mean, he didn’t really do anything wrong, because I didn’t tell him no. But when I woke up the next morning I just felt used and slutty, to be honest.”

“Oh I’m so sorry, Juliette. That’s not how it should have gone down,” Madison replied, still with that tone of sympathy in her voice.

“No, but again, Markus didn’t really do anything wrong. He was sweet enough, and he looked handsome. But I don’t really think my heart is in it, at least not yet.”

“So are you going to see him again?” she asked.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I feel like I should at least see how it goes without the aid of alcohol, you know? Give him a fair chance before I reject him totally. And anyways, I still have to dance with him.”

“That’s not really a good reason to date someone, you know,” she said, and I could practically visualize the concerned look on her face.

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s what I deserve,” I replied, a bit tritely. “I mean, I did make out with Taron when he came over for his practice today,” I continued, barrelling right through Madison’s attempts to say I didn’t deserve to feel bad or something.

There was complete silence on the other end for a moment. “You what?” she practically screamed, and I tried to explain exactly what had happened, though it was a bit difficult without the full context of the conversation we had been having.

“So… We have plans, for dinner on Saturday. Like a real dinner, I think. He wants to pick me up and everything. Which I’m absolutely thrilled about but how do you go from having sex with one guy and making out with another in 12 hours and feel not like a complete whore?”

“If that makes you a whore then I have no idea what I am,” Madison said, making me roll my eyes.

“That one time you were invited to an orgy and you thought it was a costume party doesn’t count, Mads. You’re the most innocent woman I know.”

“Doesn’t excuse my one night of debauchery,” she giggled.

“Oh please. I think worse things on a daily basis then that,” I joked back. “You saw some naked bits and then called me drunk and blubbering about it to pick you up,” I laughed.

“Well anyway, the point is, doing one ….ahhh person, and wanting someone else, isn’t exactly a sin. And you’re not technically in an exclusive relationship with either. There were no promises broken here. I told you to explore your options and you are, so I think you should be proud of yourself really, because I am.”

“Thanks, Mads. You always know how to make me feel better,” I smiled.

“You overthink everything. I love you, but it’s true. Just have some fun. I mean, it’s not every girl who gets to say Taron Egerton took her to dinner,” she giggled along with me.

“Holy shit, right?” I grinned.

“And I will forever get to say I told you so,” Madison laughed.

“Yeah, yeah,” I groaned at that. We talked a little bit longer but it had gotten late and I was completely exhausted by that point.

I got myself ready for bed quickly, trying to not hold onto any guilt or shame. As Madison had said, I’d made no relationship promises to either man. Markus was attractive and lovely, sure, but there was something about Taron that made me stupid in the best way. He was incredibly handsome but I think it had more to do with the way he made me feel like the most important person in the room. When they talked about having that “IT” factor, well, Taron had it in spades. And I was head over ballet heels for him. I knew it, and not denying it anymore was its own kind of relief.

How he would react about my daughter, though, that would be the real test. I would never be able to consider someone who didn’t want to fully engage with her in their lives. I would eventually have to make the best choice for my daughter as much as myself, and this tempered just a little of my excitement over Saturday. I eventually managed to slip off to sleep, wondering how the next couple days of rehearsals, with me caught squarely between Markus and Taron, would go.


	4. Piano Keys and Heartstrings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plenty of fluffy fluff and feels in this chapter! Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slight cursing, alcohol use, sexual tension

My first inkling of the jealousy my friendship with Taron, and by association Richard, had caused came that very next day. I had just made it to the studios and ran to the bathrooms, my bladder about to burst as the tube had been running extraordinarily behind that day. I shut myself into a stall, wrestled my way out of my leotard and tried to stop the moan of relief as I finally was able to pee just as a group of girls pushed their way in, chattering among themselves. I recognized their voices almost immediately; there were four dancers, all of them from the same kickline team, who had had nothing to do with anyone but themselves. They were cliquey and snotty and incredibly lucky they were talented because they sure wouldn’t be picked based on their personalities.

“I don’t know why that twiggy bitch thinks she’s better than anyone else,” one of the girls said.

“Ugh, I know Riley. She’s got nothing on you but all they do is pay attention to _ her _. Like she’s special or something.”

“She’s not even that pretty,” one of the other girls sniffed. I had to roll my eyes as I realized they were talking about me. The next thing they said was lost to me as I flushed the toilet and had the satisfaction of the girls all falling dead silent when I popped the door open and stepped out. I just gave my most winning smile to their expressions of surprise reflected in the mirror while I washed my hands, and left the bathroom with my head held high. I promised myself to take the high road with those girls although I didn’t understand their jealousy really.

I hadn’t expected or sought out Taron’s friendship at all. If anything it really had fallen into my lap, or rather, I had fallen into it, quite literally. I would have loved to have rubbed it in their faces that I had a date Saturday night with him, but people like that rarely learned and it would only add fuel to their jealous fire. _ Twiggy bitch _, though, that was a new one.

I made my way to the studio and plopped down next to Leah, needing to avoid Markus for the moment if I could. I started warming myself up, and Markus was trying to make eye contact with me. I just couldn’t handle putting on a show for him for the moment, so instead I turned to Leah and told her what the other girls had said about me and she instantly sympathized.

“You shouldn’t listen to a bloody thing those girls say. Bad apples in every bunch, you know,” she shrugged. “Besides, I think it’s nice that Taron is chummy with you. You seem to put him at ease when he’s around you,” she grinned.

“Really?” I said a bit nervously. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way before.

“You make everyone around you feel more comfortable and confident. Look at Pietre, for example,” Leah said, waving her hand over at my tow-headed friend, who was casually chatting with a couple of other guys. “When he came in here he didn’t say a word to anyone and I didn’t even think he was going to be able to make it through auditions. But your encouragement and support really helped him come out of his shell. And I think Taron’s been a bit anxious until he sees you and then he just lights up. That’s a very special quality you have. You’re like the mother hen to all of us, but in the most supportive way possible.”

“That’s … incredibly kind of you,” I said softly, feeling incredibly humbled.

“So it’s any wonder that he gravitated to you. If I only had half the magnetism you possess...,” she laughed.

“I totally owe you a lunch or something now,” I said, overwhelmed by the sweet words.

“What, for saying something that’s true?” she asked, so nonchalantly I’m not sure she realized how much it had hit me in the heart.

We were busy through rehearsals and I could instantly tell that Taron was already feeling more confident, being playful with the routine and not having to concentrate so hard on the steps themselves. My heart especially soared when he effortlessly nailed that move we’d worked so hard on; to be a part of helping him exude that confidence made me feel a bit proud. No one else had to know that, of course. It would stay our little secret.

Once rehearsals were over, Markus immediately came up to me, telling me how much he’d missed seeing me yesterday when we didn’t have rehearsals; a part of me felt instantly bad for the things I had been thinking after our date night. Looking at those puppy dog eyes he was giving me now, I really wondered if I was just being a bitch to him, so I vowed to myself that I would give him a chance when I wasn’t being a drunken idiot.

“Yeah, I missed you too,” I smiled genuinely, appreciating the way his sweaty shirt clung to the muscles of his chest. He was an incredibly sculpted man, I can tell you that.

“We should hang out again soon, maybe Saturday?” he offered, and I had to shake my head.

“I already have plans, sorry,” I said, trying to play up being chagrined even though those plans were with Taron, and I was very much looking forward to it. “But maybe we could catch up on Monday after rehearsals?”

“That sounds lovely,” he said, giving me a toothy smile that lit up his whole face. Okay, it wasn’t Taron’s crinkly-eyed smile, but it was still cute.

“Can I ask you a kind of personal thing?” I said, looking around me just to make sure no one was over-hearing us, but everyone was caught up in their own conversations. He nodded and I had to gather up my courage to ask. “Did you wear a condom when we slept together? Because I don’t really remember that and I feel like I need to know.”

“Well no, I didn’t. You’re on the pill, right?” he replied with a bit of a shrug, and I felt my heart stutter a little bit in my chest. _ Shit. _

“I’m not, Markus. It’s always messed my body up really badly, so I can’t take it,” I said, cringing slightly. How could he just assume that about every girl he slept with? What a massive oversight.

“Ahhhh,” he said, seeming surprised at least but not nearly as worried as I felt he should be. “We’ll talk about this later, when we have some one-on-one time,” he said, looking over my shoulder. I turned around and spotted Taron walking toward us, and he looked from my worried expression to Markus’ startled one, and at once seemed concerned.

“Everything alright?” He asked as he sidled up next to me, placing a hand gently at the small of my back. That wasn’t lost on Markus as he drew himself up to his full height in some weird kind of effort to intimidate Taron.

“We’re doing perfectly well over here, thanks,” Markus replied in a steely manner as they both stared each other down.

“Well, I was just heading out, so… I’ll see you two later,” I replied, not willing to be in the center of whatever this was turning out to be. Markus was threatened by Taron, and Taron was jealous of Markus; neither of them had any need to feel those things, but the tension was making me feel uncomfortable. Taron seemed to read that vibe from me though and backed down slightly, but I still hurriedly grabbed my bag and shuffled out of the room without giving either of them a glance backward. 

I had other things to freak out about, like the fact that Markus could potentially have gotten me pregnant. It was mostly unlikely but not totally impossible, and I still had two weeks to go until my next period. It was going to be a very long, anxious two weeks. Another baby would probably completely derail everything I’d worked so hard to build, especially with a guy I wasn’t 100 percent into. The idea of it felt rather devastating, no matter how much I loved my daughter, and all of this fear made me feel even more confused.

I took the tube home and fell face first onto my couch, completely exhausted. Between maintaining classes, Rocketman rehearsals, being a mom and now this new weird balancing act between Markus and Taron, I could barely handle my emotions or keep myself awake. Still, my phone pinged with a text and I made myself dig my phone out of my purse and focus on the text.

<Is everything really alright? You looked so completely upset when I walked up.> Taron had texted me.

<I’m not really sure to be honest, Taron, but I’ll figure it out. I have to.>

<You will and I’m here to support you fully. If you need anything at all, let me know, okay?> he sent back, making my heart twinge slightly. I didn’t deserve his kindness, that was for sure.

<Thank you, that means a lot.>

<Of course. Are you going to be seeing Markus again?> he asked, and I closed my eyes and sighed slightly at that.

<Yes. I think it’s only fair to give him another chance.>

<You don’t have to explain to me. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay, that you’ll be safe. Maybe I’m a little protective of the people I care about, but I can’t see that as a bad thing.> 

_ I’m someone he cares about? _, I wondered, my brain a bit of a haze as I unintentionally slipped off to sleep, my phone still in my hand. When I woke up later it was fully into night. My neck had a painful crimp in it from sleeping in a funny position, and I just felt more exhausted than before. I was actually grateful for once that Clara was spending the night with her father. I needed to get some food ready, so I dragged myself off the couch and made a quick bite before taking care of Troy and making sure he was settled in before calling it an early night.

I didn’t exactly wake up the next morning feeling refreshed, but I was at least not half-dead. Which was good, because I had two morning classes to teach, including my much-loathed aerobics class, before heading to rehearsals. I was already sweaty and gross when I made it across town with barely any time to spare. I took my spot on the floor for warm-ups, noticing Taron and Richard weren’t there yet, and then disappointed to find out they wouldn’t be in rehearsal that day after all. I felt like I was going through the motions a little bit as we started working on some choreography, my mind focused on other things, and I was just grateful my body knew how to take over.

At some point in the middle of rehearsal a thin woman with a pinched face came in and spoke to the choreographer briefly. He looked at me and called me over, my stomach dropping to my toes instantly. “What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to wipe the sweat off my face.

“A man came here asking for you. He said he was your ex,” the woman with the pinched face said. I felt my heart racing as I worried that something bad had happened to Clara.

“Make it quick,” the choreographer said, but not unkindly, and went to assist someone else. I stepped outside and followed the woman down a couple hallways and into an office, where Zayn and my daughter were sitting. Clara was busy playing a game on Zayn’s phone and seemed overall okay, though she shouldn’t have been out of school yet.

“What’s going on?” I asked quietly.

“I punched a boy because he was teasing my friend and saying not nice things to her and then he pushed me down when I told him to stop,” Clara said before Zayn even had a chance to speak.

“The school suspended her for the rest of the day,” Zayn added. “Mostly so the parents of the boy wouldn’t try and sue. Clara gave him a bloody nose.”

“Oh, Clara-Bean,” I said, shaking my head but finding it hard to be mad at my daughter.

“Well he’s a big bully and everyone knows it and the teachers won’t make him stop. So I did,” Clara said defiantly.

“Yes, well, using your fists probably wasn’t the best way to handle that, sweetheart. I commend you for defending your friend, but there are other ways to handle bullies,” I said carefully, wanting to make it clear violence wasn’t the answer, but not wanting to discourage her spirit either. “Next time you come to me and we’ll figure out a solution together, okay?” I said.

“Yes, mummy,” Clara said with a nod.

“Anyway, I need to get back to work. I was hoping you could take her for a bit,” Zayne cut in. “I just started this new job and I don’t have any sick time I can take. They were being generous in letting me get Clara from school as it is after you weren’t picking up your phone.”

I ran a hand over my face and tried to figure out what to do. I wasn’t sure I could be excused from rehearsal for this, but it would take my mum at least half an hour to get across town. I sighed and called my mum, making sure she could come pick Clara up, and my daughter would just have to sit in the studio and hopefully behave for the next half-hour or so. 

As we were leaving the office, though, of course we just happened to run into Taron, and I suddenly felt a wave of anxiety pass through me. While I knew Taron needed to be told about my daughter and my past if we were to continue our relationship, this was not exactly how I had planned it.

“Hey! Shouldn’t you be in rehearsal?” he grinned cutely at me, brightening at seeing me, as he always did.

“Should be, yeah. Had a bit of a family emergency though,” I said, nodding at my daughter. “Taron, this is Clara,” I said, not even realizing I was holding my breath but he took it completely in stride and if he was surprised, he kept it off his face.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Clara,” he said, offering his hand, which she took and shook rather enthusiastically.

“I’m 7 and mum says I’m too smart for my own good,” she announced, making Taron just chuckle.

“Is that so? Well being smart is never a bad thing,” he said with a wink.

“I guess so,” she said with a shrug. “All the other kids make fun of me though.”

“Well some day you will be the boss and all the other kids will have to work for you, and then it won’t matter,” he replied, and the smile that spread on Clara’s face was the sweetest thing to see.

“Did you hear that mummy? I’m going to be the boss!” she said excitedly, and I laughed with her excitement.

“I do believe it’s true,” I smiled, before introducing Zayn as well. Taron was polite with him and Zayn excused himself quickly after that to get back to work. “My mum’s on her way to pick up Clara, but I just don’t know what to do about her until mum gets here,” I sighed as Taron walked along with us back toward the rehearsal room.

“I could give her a tour of the place, show her all the interesting bits, if that’d help you out. I’m literally doing nothing at the moment,” Taron offered.

“Oh, I can’t ask that of you,” I said, shaking my head.

“You didn’t ask, but I’m offering. It’ll be fun for me too, you know? I’ve got two sisters around Clara’s age,” he smiled, turning to Clara. “Would you like to see the recording room?” he grinned a bit mischievously, and Clara instantly lit up.

“Can I mummy? Please?” she asked. Damn if Taron hadn’t gotten around my objections far too easily. I wasn’t about to disappoint my daughter now.

“You two have fun then,” I said, a bit helplessly as Taron just winked at me.

“Oh, we will. Now get back to dancing,” Taron grinned, and I had to think I was crazy for leaving my daughter just randomly in his care, but what could a half-hour really hurt, right?

I returned to rehearsals and tried to keep my mind focused, but I couldn’t help wondering what Taron and my daughter were up to, hoping she was behaving for him. She was a good kid, but could be precocious when she wanted to be. I was so grateful when rehearsal was finally over. It’d been another hour and my mum had left me a text that she had arrived at the studios but then I got nothing else. I quickly called her as I gathered up my bag, but she didn’t answer. I also texted Taron and got no answer from him either. I wanted to assume that my mum had found Taron and Clara and already left, but I wasn’t absolutely sure, so I hurried along the labyrinth of hallways, looking into rooms and trying to find Taron if nothing else.

I heard the giggles long before I found them, followed by some tinkling of piano keys. I quietly snuck up on the room, peeking around the corner. Seated on the piano bench side-by-side were Taron and Clara, my mum looking on from the side. I pulled my phone out and couldn’t help quietly taking a couple of snaps, especially when Clara looked adoringly up at Taron, and he was smiling sweetly down at her. It stole my heart for a moment until Clara finally noticed me haunting the doorway.

“Mummy!” she squealed excitedly. “Taron is teaching me to play like Elton!” she said. “Can we play it for her?” she asked Taron excitedly, and he grinned and nodded. 

“You remember the notes, right?” he said so gently as Clara placed her fingers eagerly on the keys. They played the first few bars of music from “Your Song” together, Taron playing the chords while Clara did a fairly decent job with the melody. They hadn’t gotten very far into the song, but she was still so excited about it that all of us were left beaming.

“That was so good, Clara-Bean!” I grinned, giving her a hug and mouthing ‘Thank you’ to Taron as I did so. I was also trying hard not to swoon over Taron himself being so sweet with my daughter.

“She’s going to be a real talent, dear,” my mum said proudly. We chatted a little bit longer but I didn’t want to take up much more of Taron’s time, though he promised me he truly enjoyed spending time with Clara.

“See you tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at 6?” Taron said as we were taking our leave.

“I’ll be ready!” I said with a grin.

As my mum and I and Clara left the studios, my mum turned to me and placed a hand on my arm. “You need to hold onto that one if you can, dear. Handsome AND good with kids? He’s perfect for you!”

“Mum!” I said with a laugh. “We’re just friends right now. I don’t know that he’d want a ready-made family like that anyway,” I said, shrugging the idea of it out of my brain immediately. It wouldn’t do me any good to get my hopes up, though I was grateful Taron hadn’t seemed remotely bothered that I already had a daughter.

I made arrangements to take Clara over to my mum’s for an overnight Saturday before my date; I think my mum might have been more excited for it than I was at the moment. I’m sure she just wanted me to find someone to be happy with after seeing me go through so much in the past with Zayn and a handful of other awful experiences with men. I hadn’t really told her about Markus either, and didn’t intend to unless it became an actual thing.

My daughter and I spent a quiet Friday evening pigging out on pizza and ice cream in front of the telly, watching our favorite movies together and even painting our nails “every color of the rainbow” as Clara requested. We both crashed hard when we could no longer keep our eyes open, slept in late, had a lazy breakfast of cereal and orange juice, packed an overnight bag for Clara and then played with Troy until it was time to take her over to my mum’s.

Once Clara was good and settled in with her grandmum, I made a couple of quick errands before getting myself home again with enough time to get ready. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect and Taron hadn’t given me any hints as to where he was taking me. I decided a cute comfortable dress (navy blue and white lace, and the best part, with pockets!) and a cardigan would be dressed up enough for something more formal but still casual enough to pass if he chose that too. I piled my hair up in a bun, figuring there was no point in straying too far from the person he already knew I was, dashed on some makeup and otherwise tried to not get too nervous as I waited for Taron to arrive. _ Was it even possible to not be nervous? _ I thought to myself.

When the doorbell rang, right on time I might add, Troy immediately ran over to it, barking to announce we had a visitor. I quickly pulled the door open and found Taron standing there, looking dashing as ever in a striped shirt, black jacket and a black hat pulled over his hair. I couldn’t help but stare a little bit as I greeted him. “Hi. Hey. Um… Troy, sit!” I said, my face probably turning red as my dog tried to jump excitedly on Taron.

“Hey there buddy!” he said, patting Troy for a second before grinning at me. “You look beautiful as ever,” he said, leaning in and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. He offered his arm and I took it after grabbing my clutch and locking the door behind me, telling Troy to be a good boy; the dog seemed only a little put out to be left behind. Taron opened the car door for me, which was super sweet, before getting in the driver’s seat.

“Hope you’re hungry,” he said with an amused grin on his face as he put the car in gear.

“I’ve saved up my appetite,” I giggled lightly. “So where are you taking me?” I joked.

“That’s a surprise,” he just chuckled, taking my hand gently as he drove. “I like these colors by the way,” he said, lifting my hand to his mouth and placing a sweet kiss on my fingers, making my heart want to skip a few beats.

“Oh! That! Yeah, I let Clara choose the colors and forgot to take the polish off,” I laughed, almost feeling shy in front of him.

“I think it’s amazing how sweet you are with your daughter,” he grinned over at me. “She’s an adorable kid and by the looks of it, has an amazing mum too.” There had been very few times I’d been rendered speechless in my life; that statement was one of them.

“I… Taron,” I said softly, staring down at my lap.

“You needn’t be shy about that around me,” he said gently. “I do feel how kids turn out is often a direct reflection of their parents. You should be proud that you have a bright, happy, spirited child.”

“She’s something else,” I laughed. “Let’s just say she was having a really good day yesterday. You haven’t seen the tantrums and fits,” I grinned.

“Oh I’m sure it goes with the territory,” he chuckled. “I really would love to experience all that parenthood offers some day,” he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling the way that I so loved.

When someone talks about having feels, well, I was having all of them at the moment. I was sure he could hear my heart beating right out of my chest. Hearing Taron talk about wanting kids some day was just nearly too much to bear, and I truly did believe he’d make an amazing dad. The conversation naturally moved on to other topics, but the feels definitely lingered.

We arrived at The Ledbury and I had to take a double-take over the restaurant he had chosen. “Taron, this is fancy as shit! I’m way under-dressed!” I said, and he had a laugh over that.

“Nonsense. People eat here in jeans and hipster jackets, you’re just fine. In fact, I imagine you’ll be the loveliest woman in the place, if I have anything to say about that,” he said. I felt my heart ache yet again over what he said and I was not going to survive this night if he kept looking at me the way he was at that moment. “Come on then,” he said after clearing his throat and having to tear his eyes away.

We made our way into the gorgeous building, with black curtains adorning the spacious windows that let plenty of light in. I took in the space, the round tables covered in white cloths and plush upholstered chairs. Taron gave his name for our reservation and we were seated and immediately offered wine, to which we both agreed.

I looked over the menu, trying not to gasp out loud at the price of the four-course dinner, but Taron seemed completely nonplussed about it. Right, he was living in a different world than me, where he could pay for a 300-euro meal without blinking but I had to use coupons for basics like noodles and bread, I reminded myself.

I was determined to enjoy every last bite of this meal, though, so I made my selections and just tried to tune into the conversation, enjoying the wine maybe a little more than I should. We laughed a lot though, and I found that I was truly enjoying his company, more than I could have thought possible. He was engaging, kind in every way, funny as hell and charming to bits, and I found myself really opening up to him. I told him about my upbringing, with my mum raising me by herself after my dad left when I was just a tiny tot, and why I was determined that Clara at least know who her father was even if he had disappointed me so much over the years. Taron listened in his patient way and never judged any of my past pain, and for that I was eternally grateful.

I got him talking about Rocketman while we ate, and seeing him so passionate about the project and so endlessly excited about his burgeoning friendship with Elton made me really happy. 

And that food, my god, I probably could have just gone straight to heaven after that meal. I couldn’t even identify half of what I was putting in my mouth, but it was exquisite nonetheless. And of course every meal course was paired with an amazing wine, and of course I had to drink every last drop of that wine, so I was feeling really good - _ okay, maybe quite buzzed _ \- by the time we ended our meal with the brown sugar tart and buffalo milk meringue. Taron, for his part, had been more careful about imbibing, probably because he would have to drive later.

It’d gotten quite late by the time Taron helped my giggling self back out to the car. The service had been superb, but not exactly fast, and we’d definitely whiled away the hours together. We made the drive back to my house, giggling over stupid shit and singing way too loudly to the radio with the windows down. It was the most alive I had felt in a long time, to be honest, as I let the wind from the open windows whip loose strands of my hair around my face.

Once we arrived back at my house, Taron insisted on walking me to my door, and in a small bit of courage I decided to invite him in. He looked hesitant for a moment, but then caved and followed me in. I showed him about the space, glad it didn’t look like too much of a hot mess, though I had to sweep several of Clara’s toys off the couch so we could sit. Troy demanded some attention but after we doted on him a bit he finally wandered off to his bed and laid down.

“It’s been an amazing evening, so thank you,” I grinned at him, and realized I truly meant it. I couldn’t really believe how fun it had been, really getting to just spend time outside of work and dance together. We had some things in common, certainly, and he didn’t feel so far away from me, sitting on my couch and looking at me like I was the only girl in the world at the moment.

It made my breath catch in my chest slightly as he reached over and brushed the wild strands of hair back sweetly. “I have enjoyed myself thoroughly in your company. I feel that I should thank you also,” he smiled, his eyes tracing the lines of my lips. We stared at each other for that small space of time and then we were leaning into each other, our lips crashing against each other’s in our sweet but hungry kisses. I could still taste the wine on his lips, and I felt my body light on fire as he naturally pulled me into him.

I slid my leg over his lap so I was straddling him, aware of how close I now was, my chest pressed tightly to his as all the wine I’d drank allowed my instincts and hormones to take over my brain. I deepened the kisses, wanting more despite my better judgments, and Taron didn’t hold back either as he pulled my cardigan off, his fingers traveling over my bare arms, and then running over my waist and my stomach, then down to my thighs, where the hem of my dress had ridden up. I’m pretty sure I moaned into his mouth at that point, and I could feel him growing hard between us.

Something wicked must have taken over me, because I ground my hips against him and was rewarded with the most delicious groan as his eyes fluttered slightly. We kissed a few more times but then he pulled away, leaving me panting, and leaned his forehead against mine.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered. 

“What?” I asked, crashing back down to earth with a hard mental thud. “Why not? You clearly want this.”

“But you’re clearly drunk and I can’t take that decision away from you. I’d hate myself forever for that. I need to know it’s you that wants me and not just the wine,” he said, his eyes pleading with me to understand.

I groaned slightly and slid off his lap then, needing to remove myself from the temptation. I knew he had a point, I knew it in the little bit of logical brain I still had left, but that didn’t mean the rejection still didn’t sting. “Of course,” I said, frowning slightly, my lips still tingling and my body still throbbing uncomfortably.

“Please don’t hate me,” he said, his brow wrinkling in concern and sadness.

“God, I don’t hate you Taron,” I rolled my eyes. “No one could hate you. You’re like a bucket of puppies or whatever,” I said, my head beginning to join the throbbing party. I grabbed a pillow and laid my head down on it and sighed.

“You should get some sleep. You might feel better in the morning about things,” he said softly, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch where it was draped and laying it over me gently. I didn’t have the energy to protest this, really, so I closed my eyes and nodded.

“Yes dear,” I yawned, still clearly not in full control of myself and not even realizing that word had slipped out of my mouth. Taron smiled softly and leaned over, kissing me on the forehead.

“I’ll call you in the morning, maybe bring over breakfast, yeah?” he said as I nodded my head, half-asleep already. “This is most certainly to be continued, love” he whispered in my ear, his voice a deep timbre, before leaving me to fall headfirst into my slumber._ To be continued? _ I wondered at that as Taron saw himself out the door. _ What could he possibly mean? _


	5. Lazy Sundays and difficult choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just some fluffy fluff [daddy Taron feels, yes please] and more relationship drama in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Cursing, brief mentions of sex but no actual smut

I was awoken the next morning by a cold, wet nose pressed against my arm. It took me a few seconds to process where I even was, crashed out on my own couch in last night’s dress.  _ Again. _

Troy whined at me slightly, having waited as long as he possibly could before waking me to be let out. He whuffed at me slightly, looking at me with those deep brown puppy eyes of his.

“I’m up, I’m up,” I groaned as I pushed myself back up to sitting and wiped my hand over my face, smearing the remnants of makeup. I reached over and scratched Troy on the head, and he wagged his tail at me. “You’re a cute boy, yes you are,” I said in that special voice I reserved just for him. I spied a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water on the coffee table; Taron must have done that before he left last night, when I was dead to the world.

I got up and let Troy out to do his doggy business before finding my phone still nestled in my purse where I’d left it. <I am NEVER drinking again I swear to God> I texted Madison.

<What, why? What happened?> Madison instantly texted back, and I could just imagine the worried expression she was making.

<Nothing but I am an absolute IDIOT when I drink, Mads. I have got to stop just throwing myself at guys> I responded.

<Did you and Taron … ?> she texted, waiting for my reply.

<No because he’s a gentleman unlike Markus but the point is I totally would have if he’d taken advantage. But he walked away and now I feel like absolute trash. We had an amazing dinner together and I almost threw the night away. I’m a total moron. Please tell me to never leave this house again.>

<Okay well you’re being a bit ridiculous, for one. It’s a good thing Taron is a gentleman, that means he cares for you more than just physically. I’m sure you being a bit drunk did NOT ruin anything with him. Do you remember what he said, at all?>

<Of course, I wasn’t THAT trashed. He said he didn’t want to take the choice away from me, that he wanted to know it was me and not the wine making me want him…>

<Holy shit, Juliette! So he’s totally into you!>

<When I’m not being a drunk idiot. But in all seriousness, I’m not touching another drop of alcohol for a long time.>

<Until your wedding, eh!!> Madison sent back with the waggling eyebrows emoji, making me blush and squeal out loud at the same time. Troy just looked at me with a concerned expression; he probably thought his human was absolutely mad.

<Oh stop. I can’t think like that and you know it> I texted, blushing hard.

<Yeah I know it, but you should probably stop texting me and start texting Taron … Make sure his ass knows sober you still wants him too> she replied.

<You are too damn much, Mads. What has even gotten into you, giving me all this advice.>

<Look, I’m not blind! The man is fit as fuck and I’m only a little jealous that he’s all heart eyes for you. Don’t blow your opportunity, is all I’m saying, cause there’s about a million fangirls lined up behind you waiting their turn.>  _ Woah _ , I thought, staring at my phone for a long minute. I had never really thought about it that way. To me, he was just Taron; yes, Taron who could afford nice things and Taron who could act brilliantly and Taron who was impeccably handsome, but he was still just the Taron I’d gotten to know on a very human level. He was kind and sweet and lovely and I fancied him a lot, but a small part of me still wondered why he paid me any attention at all. If it had been any other girl that had bumped into him in the hallway weeks ago, would he be taking them out to expensive meals instead of me?

<Well thanks for the dose of reality. You’re always good for that> I sent back before calling Troy back inside from where he was sniffing along the fence line. I decided to take a shower before doing anything else, turning the water as hot as my skin could take it. Once I felt clean and refreshed, I wrapped myself in a bathrobe and left my hair wrapped up in a towel and walked over to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. I grabbed my phone while that percolated and finally decided to text Taron.

<Good morning! I’m alive, I promise. Also, thank you for dinner last night, it was lovely. I can’t remember if I managed to say that or not but I don’t want to be rude.> I made myself a cup of coffee while waiting for Taron to reply.

<Good morning, love! How are you feeling?> he responded.

<Surprisingly pretty well for how much of that expensive wine I drank last night> I wrote cheekily.

<Would you require sustenance in the way of food? Because I’m completely lusting after those Tongue and Brisket salmon bagels and I could bring some over if you’d like.> Of course Taron would use the term “lust” instead of “crave” and of course my brain would go to thoughts it shouldn’t be thinking, on a Sunday morning no less.

<Yes of course, that’d be lovely> I texted back quickly, trying to calm my whore brain down.

<Should I order something for Clara too?> he asked, being considerate of my daughter.

<She’ll still be at her grandmum’s until afternoon> I wrote back.

<Ahh> was Taron’s simple response.  _ Did I detect a note of disappointment there? _ I wondered.

<I suppose I could arrange to have her brought home earlier… If you’d like?>

<That’d be brilliant. I’ll be over in an hour or so> he responded. Clara must have made quite an impression on Taron if he wanted to spend more time with her. I texted my mum and made arrangements for her to bring Clara back over early and then quickly got myself ready, slipping into a simple dress and leggings and making sure the house was as clean as it was going to get in an hour. Troy let me know when Taron had arrived before the doorbell rang, prancing excitedly in front of the door, the entire bottom half of him wagging excitedly.

“Out of the way, boy,” I laughed, having to use my leg to try and scoot him back enough so I could get the door open.

“Hi!” I said, answering the door and trying to keep Troy from excitedly attacking Taron with all his doggy love at the same time, so I must have looked slightly flustered. Taron managed to take all of this in stride, of course, and I greeted him warmly once he managed to squeeze inside. I ended up putting Troy outside in the backyard so he wouldn’t be slobbering over our bagels, earning myself a look of betrayal until I tossed him a treat.

I rejoined Taron on the couch, and he had already pulled out our bagels and set them out carefully on the coffee table. “These look amazing,” I smiled and Taron grinned at me.

“Oh, they are amazing,” he grinned, handing me one with the wrapper carefully pulled back. I’d had many good bagels in my life, but the ones he had chosen blew me away. The bagels themselves had the perfect chewy but still moist texture, and the sweetness of the cream cheese balanced the smokiness of the salmon. For a long moment all you could hear were the sounds of our chewing because those bagels were that good.

“I think this bagel may have just changed my life,” I joked around a bite, making Taron chuckle.

“You sure it’s not the company?” he asked with a wink, making my heart stutter slightly in my chest. I tried to recover by taking a massive bite of the bagel so I wouldn’t have to immediately respond, but then I nearly choked and Taron ended up having to thump my back while I coughed, my face red and my eyes tearing up.

“Hey, easy there,” he said, making sure I was okay.

“Hi, have you met me? I’m always awkward,” I said once I could manage to talk again.

“Yeah, I kind of got that,” he teased me lightly. “And yet somehow you’re a brilliant dancer.”

“The world works in mysterious ways, T,” I laughed at that. We chatted a bit longer before my mum arrived with Clara. My mum seemed surprised that Taron was there, raising her eyebrows at me and giving me an “oh?” Clara had gravitated right to Taron, and I saw him giving her a high five, her laughter bouncing off the walls of the house and making me grin.

“Be right back,” I said, grabbing Clara’s bag from my mum and nodding toward the bedrooms so she followed me. “Before you judge anything, no, he didn’t stay the night,” I said in a rush as soon as we were out of ear shot. “He offered to bring bagels this morning and I figured, why not?”

“Dinner last night and breakfast in the morning, dear?” my mum asked, with that tone of voice that meant she thought a lot more than she was saying.

“He’s exceptionally thoughtful and has deep pockets?” I tried as I unpacked Clara’s bag, feeling myself blushing despite myself.

“Oh that boy fancies you so much. He just plays by the old rules of courtship, which is a fat lot better then these young kids who roll up thinking cat-calling a young lady from their car is going to do them any favors,” my mum huffed, and I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Seriously, mum?” I giggled. “They don’t really do that either. They buy you a drink and expect to get laid and there you have it.”

“Your pappi was a gentleman, through and through. Rather swept me off my feet back in the day,” she said with a far-off smile.

“Why did Pappi leave then?” I asked softly, gently setting one of Clara’s stuffed plushies on her bed and smoothing out the comforter.

“He had his own demons to reckon with, dear. It had nothing to do with how much he loved you or me.”

“I just don’t think I have any of this figured out, mum,” I sighed softly. “I’m more confused now than I ever was. Taron is amazing and every kind thing I could say about him but I don’t feel like I deserve this kindness at all. I feel like we’re from very different worlds.”

“Oh honey, don’t you ever close that door on yourself,” my mum said, crossing the room over to me and placing her hand on my cheek. “You are every bit deserving to be loved and cared for and if that means belonging in Taron’s world, then don’t you dare count yourself out of it. He clearly wants to be here for a reason. And you might even have more in common than you’re aware of right now.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, giving her a small smile. “I just don’t want to bring him into a world that is messy and imperfect as much as mine is.”

“The world is messy and imperfect, dear. No one can avoid that. But maybe he sees who you are beyond that.”

“I just don’t know,” I said after taking a deep breath.

My mum just smiled knowingly and headed for the door. “Listen to your mum, she knows a thing or two,” she said before returning to the living room again, leaving me to my thoughts. I quickly finished unpacking Clara’s bag before going to let Troy back inside. He excitedly bounded his way to the living room, adding his happy energy to the scene in my living room, Clara squealing and hugging Troy as Taron seemed captivated by them both.

“I will get out of your hair but, it was nice seeing you again, Mr. Egerton,” my mum said, the absolute picture of poise and grace.

“Taron, please,” he smiled, offering to shake her hand but she just gave him a hug instead, which he cutely returned.

“Have a fantastic day, loves,” she smiled before seeing herself out the door.

“Mummy, can we go to the park now?” Clara said in her eternally enthusiastic way. “I want to throw the ball for Troy!” she said, and Troy perked his ears up at the recognized word.

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Taron grinned, looking to me, his face alight. I couldn’t say no to that, so soon enough we were out the door and heading for the park, Clara insisting on taking Troy’s leash and walking ahead of us as Taron and I enjoyed the nice weather of the day.

We let Troy off his leash as soon as we got to the park and took turns throwing his ball for him, which he thoroughly enjoyed retrieving and dropping at our feet.

“I wish I could throw as far as you and mummy!” Clara sighed dramatically to Taron.

“Well, you just need a little practice is all!” Taron grinned, picking up the ball and showing Clara how to step forward and follow through with her arm so the ball would gain some air. She improved a bit, Troy ever faithful in retrieving it no matter how far it did or didn’t travel, but eventually Taron scooped Clara up onto his shoulders and grinned. “Now try it!” he chuckled, and Clara squealed happily at being so high up.

“Watch, mum!” she said, tossing the ball and watching it soar before bouncing a fair bit away.

“Hey you did it!” Taron grinned at me, the whole interaction sending feelings through me that I was still having trouble trying to place. The way Taron was with Clara was just absolutely so sweet, and it really had me swooning. Eventually Troy gave up the game, landing in a fluffy pile and panting heavily, and Taron gently set Clara back on the ground.

“Tag, you’re it!” she said, patting him on the arm and then squealing and running away.

“Well I have to give chase now,” Taron grinned at me before running after her, easily catching up to her and wrapping his arms around her, their laughter traveling to me. I pulled out my phone and snapped that photo too, the joy so evident on Clara’s face it made my heart ache. I only ever wanted my child to know this kind of happiness, and I’d realized long ago I couldn’t provide that joy to her alone.

We wrapped up our time in the park and made the tired walk home, Clara still chatting our ears off about whatever it is that came to her 7-year-old mind. It was so easy to feel like a family at that moment, but I knew that was also dangerous. If Taron didn’t feel the same about any of this, I was setting myself up for a lot of heartbreak, and even more so, I had to protect Clara’s feelings as well.

We made it back to the house and Taron decided it was probably time for him to go so he didn’t wear out his welcome (as if he ever could), so Clara gave him a sweet hug and told him how much fun she’d had, and Taron of course agreed. I let her and Troy into the house to go play before turning to Taron.

“Thank you for today, it was really great,” I said as I faced him, now suddenly level with him as I was on the raised stoop.

“You know, I couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend a lazy Sunday,” he smiled at me, making my heart flutter yet again. “So, see you at rehearsal tomorrow?” he grinned that megawatt grin of his at me.

“Yes you will. It won’t be too long before screen tests and filming,” I said, my voice betraying the nerves I felt over that. It was one thing to rehearse in a studio room; it was another to realize I was actually going to be on film soon.

“It will be great, you’ll see. You’ll be with me and Rich, nothing to worry about,” he grinned.

“Yeah, nothing to worry about at all,” I said sarcastically before he took my hands in his.

“You’ll be as brilliant on screen as you are breathtaking in real life, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh Taron,” I said softly, having to stare at the ground until he gently tilted my chin up to gaze in his eyes. They were so light today, nearly peridot in color and sparkling in the sun.

“You’ll see what I see some day,” he smiled, leaning in and kissing me gently. I didn’t realize until that moment that I’d been waiting for him to do that all day. I could feel him smile against my lips, and then I kissed him back, my arms wrapping around his neck and not caring if my nosy neighbor next door, Mrs. Burnham, was watching through her blinds.

We kissed like that until we were both out of breath and giggling. “You take my damn breath away, Juliette,” he whispered sweetly, his breath tickling my skin.

“I’m sure it’s quite the other way around, Taron,” I whispered back.

“Then we’ll just stay breathless together, eh?” he grinned.

“I guess so,” I hedged, not sure I was totally understanding what he was implying.

“I want to keep having these moments with you,” he added, such softness in his gaze that it made something open up in my chest, a place where I had once been loved and yearned to be again.

“I do too, of course I do, but I have to figure some other things out first,” I said uncertainly, as Taron took a small step back from me.

“Like Markus?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you still seeing him?”

“I…Tomorrow, after rehearsal. But that’s not your business really,” I replied.

“You’re right, it’s not, but please let me know when you’re done playing this game with him. He can never give you what I could,” Taron said, and I swore I could feel the jealousy under his words as tiny pinpricks in my skin.

“Um Taron, that’s not-” I said but he started walking away from me, cutting off my words.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Juliette. Good day,” he said over his shoulder, as if I was just another acquaintance and not the person I’d spent my entire morning and day laughing with. I stood on the stoop feeling confused as he got in his car and drove off, but he at least waved and I raised my hand too, completely unsure about my own feelings or his for that matter.

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to steady myself before returning inside, intending to have a good rest of the Sunday with my daughter. And we did have a good day, playing video games and Barbies and unicorns and god knows what else she came up with. She wanted me to help her paint a picture of Elton, so I did my best to help draw an outline of Elton at the piano, though the face came out wonky but she loved it and we hung it up on the fridge when she was done painting. Her love of Elton always made me feel happy inside, like I’d done something right in parenting her at least. The evening flew by and soon I was tucking my daughter in bed and crashing myself, having mixed feelings about rehearsals the next day, especially because I’d agreed to have another date with Markus that evening.

The night passed and soon enough I found myself getting Clara off to school and myself across the city to Paramount, where we’d be setting our choreography on the actual massive set piece they’d built, which was a bunch of steps leading up to what looked like a record. Working the stair steps was its own sort of challenge, but eventually we felt as comfortable dancing on the platform as we had been in the studio. Taron was cordial to me but I felt the coldness behind his demeanor and it hurt me slightly. I knew he was probably just trying to protect himself but I craved the sort of warmth he had brought into my life. But I still felt like I owed Markus one last chance before I “made my choice,” if that was even real. I think it was already clear to everyone but myself who I gravitated toward the most.

When rehearsals were over, Taron brushed past me, saying in a low voice “I should say enjoy your date tonight but I really hope you don’t.”

“Taron, please. This jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” I said.

“How else am I supposed to feel?” he asked, his dark green gaze searing straight into my soul until Richard came by, putting his hands on Taron’s shoulders and laughing about something. I think he realized he’d just interrupted a moment, but Taron just shrugged and smiled at me. “I’ve got to go, later,” he said before excusing himself and leaving with Richard. I felt my a pang in my chest but had to shrug it off.

I made it home in time to shower and slip into a pair of skinny jeans and a blouse and flats, checking in with my mum to make sure Clara was getting her homework done while on the tube back across town again to meet up with Markus. We’d agreed on a low-key pizzeria this time, just wanting a nice sit-down restaurant to try and get to know each other better.

And it actually was a good time, despite my misgivings about how our first date had gone. Markus even apologized for what had happened, saying he should have taken more responsibility and had been incredibly drunk himself.

“I hope you don’t think that I’m just this kind of asshole,” he said gently, his fingers pressed against my knee and his steel grey eyes soft in the table’s candlelight. “We got off to the wrong start and I want to make it right again. I’m not some ‘bro’ trying to get laid. I think you’re gorgeous and smart and incredibly talented and I was swept off my feet when I saw you dance,” he said.

I’d heard those words before but somehow coming from Markus it didn’t quite hit me in the heart the way it had coming from Taron, and I sighed at that.

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” I replied, staring at my hands folded primly in front of me on the tabletop. Markus was kind and lovely so why did he not stir my heart? He was the sort of person I could relate to - the kind of person who I deserved to be with. To think I deserved Taron at all was humor at its highest mark.

“What are you thinking?” Markus asked me, reaching over and wrapping his hands around mine. The gesture was meant to be sweet but I had to fight my initial reaction to jerk away.

“You’re a really sweet guy, Markus,” I smiled at him lightly, obviously unable to tell him I was actually thinking about Taron.

“We have a lot in common, don’t we?” he grinned beatifically at me. I suddenly had the urge to run my fingers through his brunette curls, to see if they were as soft and fluffy as Taron’s hair.  _ My god, _ I chastised myself,  _ what is my problem? _

“We do, but there’s something else you should know,” I said softly, taking a deep breath before delivering the news about my daughter. I waited for Markus’ reaction, scared and anxious that he’d hate that idea and then it would make my choice so much simpler.

“Well, I’d love to meet her some day,” he replied sweetly, and then ended up spending the next half-hour asking me questions about Clara and wanting to see photos of her. I very nearly accidentally showed him the picture of Clara and Taron in the park, and the picture made my heart skip an extra beat when I saw the pure joy on their sweet faces. “What’s that?” he asked, obviously having seen my expression and trying to maneuver himself to look at my screen.

“Uh, nothing,” I said, but he’d already caught a peek at the picture. 

“I could do better, if you’d give me the same chance you gave  _ him _ ,” he said, practically spitting out that last word.

“Do you even want to have a family, Markus?” I asked, a bit exasperated. “Nothing about our conversations has made me believe you’d suddenly want that responsibility. Clara mostly stays with me, you know. This wouldn’t be a part-time position and I have to do what’s best for her.”

“So you’ve already decided then?” he asked, grimacing slightly.

“I never said that,” I sighed, running my hands through my hair, which had dried into its natural soft waves.

“I know you don’t feel the same way about me, but he’s not the one in front of you right now. I am. So give me that chance to try and be that for you, because I think this could be really, really great,” he pleaded with me, making me once again feel guilty for the thoughts I’d been having.  _ Had it really been that obvious? _ I wondered.

“Markus, I …” I started, not really sure what to say.

“Just don’t shut me out, okay? Let’s go on more dates. Hell, go out on dates with whats-his-face too. I’m not even jealous. All I can be is here for you. And may the best man win anyway, right?” he asked, making me sigh heavily. A battle of the boys was not even remotely what I had signed up for.

“It’s Taron. His name is Taron,” I said a bit weakly.

We wrapped up our meal soon after, mostly because I needed to go retrieve my daughter from my mum’s but also because the conversation had suddenly dried up. He kissed me on the cheek and wished me a good eve and I had far too much time to think as I rode the tube alone across the city.  _ What the hell had I just gotten myself into? _

I was so relieved to find myself distracted with my daughter for the rest of the evening, trying to leave thoughts of Taron and Markus both out of my mind. I was crap at matters of the heart and I knew that; I hadn’t grown up seeing a loving relationship between my parents so knowing what to choose now just made me feel anxious and overwhelmed. Markus was sweet and kind and understood me, but I didn’t exactly have deep feelings for him. Taron, on the other hand, took my breath away but was so beyond me it hurt to acknowledge. What would he even be able to make out of my chaotic life? He didn’t need me bringing him down, that was for certain. But oh, how he could make me feel, and I hadn’t even slept with him.

These thoughts lingered in my mind through the entire night and well into my classes the next day. I at least could forget my troubles in 45-minute intervals, fully focused on my students as I led them through chasses and adagios.

I had a fun surprise for my 5-year-old class, gathering them around me to read a ballet storybook I’d found at the Waterstones a few days before. They were all so cute, their little eager faces turned to me as I read to them, and it reminded me how much I truly did love teaching. I dismissed my class, accepting their hugs and calls of “Thank you Miss Juliette!” before spying Taron haunting the doorway, remembering that we’d practiced here before so of course he knew where I worked. One little girl cutely stopped in front of him, and I couldn’t hear what either was saying but she giggled and her mum smiled appreciatively at Taron.

He walked in the studio, holding a small bouquet of flowers and handing them over to me. “What are you doing here?” I asked, accepting the flowers and honestly a bit surprised to see him.

“I just needed to apologize for being a basic asshole to you yesterday, and the day before that. You were right, I was acting jealous and had no right to be, and I hope you can accept that I’m completely sorry for my behaviour,” he said, biting his lip slightly. “I knew we wouldn’t see each other again for a few days, and I didn’t want this to wait so…”

“Thank you, of course I accept that apology but you didn’t really need to,” I said softly.

“I just want you to know that I want you to be happy, whoever that ends up being with. And if it’s not me, I can accept that. I’m your friend first, and I want you to know that I’m here for you and that’s not contingent on a relationship.” He fidgeted with his jacket sleeves slightly, obviously nervous about what he was saying and I felt the urge to just give him a hug.

“Taron, I … I do like you, a lot,” I said softly, about to tell him how much I didn’t belong in his world when he just kept talking through me.

“And the thing is, I mean, if Markus is your guy, then I’ll step away from this and respect that. Or… or if you can’t make up your mind, then I guess I’d be okay with you seeing both of us until you could decide, you know, who made you happier,” he said, stumbling slightly over his words and staring at the ground the whole time.

“Seriously?” I said, mostly in absolute shock but I think Taron misread it as eagerness.

“Is that palatable?” he asked, finally looking up at me. “Because I really don’t want to lose a chance with you,” he said softly, his face looking as though he was about to crumble.

“Taron, you’re not going to lose me,” I said, instantly going over to him and cupping his face with my hands. “We work together, remember?” I teased, earning a small smile out of that. “I’m trying to be as fair as I can and I never expected myself to be in this situation.”

“Right, I get it,” he said quietly, the vulnerability clear on his face. “Or at least, I’m trying to understand it.”

“I just find it hard to believe that you’d choose someone like me to want to be with. There have to be other girls, better women who are more in your world, you know?” I finally admitted.

“Better than you?” he asked, his eyes going wide. “Juliette, there is no one better than you in my world. This is where I want you to be and where you deserve to be.”

I couldn’t speak for all the emotions his words drew to the forefront. Doubt, disbelief, shock, love, vulnerability, yearning and passion, maybe even a little bit of fear coursed through me as he wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me in to him, kissing me without holding anything back this time. If I thought that man could make me feel before, that was nothing compared to getting lost with him now.

“Gross, get a room,” Madison joked, having barged in the studio thinking it was just me there. Taron and I broke apart instantly, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed.

“Uh, Mads, this is Taron. Taron, my best friend Madison,” I said, trying to recover by introducing them.

“Oh, I know who Taron is,” she smirked, offering her hand to him but getting a cute hug instead.  _ Oh my god, _ she mouthed to me over his shoulder. We chatted briefly but I had an incoming class and Taron knew he couldn’t really take up much more of my time, but he gave me another, much sweeter kiss and cupped my chin with his fingers. 

“We’ll talk about this later, yeah? Call me,” he smiled, giving me the now-familiar phone gesture, and I nodded.

“You’ve got it,” I said, watching him go as he cutely waved at the both of us.

“Oh. My. God!” Madison squealed at me as soon as the door had swung shut behind Taron. “So are you together now?” she nearly screeched.

“I...uhm… I think so? It’s complicated, but I think I definitely need to let Markus down now,” I said, my lips still tingling from kissing Taron.

“Yeah, I’d say,” Madison snorted. “You were practically melting into him. You can’t tell me Markus sweeps you off your feet like that.”

“Or kisses like that, definitely not,” I mused slightly.

“Are you even going to survive sex with Taron?” she asked, making me blush a deep red.

“Holy shit, Mads, you can’t go around saying things like that to me!” I said as she cackled, giving me a wicked grin as my next class of students started filing in.

“Oh, I can, and I did. Have fun with your class!” she giggled, leaving me to it as I desperately tried to recover my composure. 

I tried with some difficulty to keep my mind from wandering to what Taron might look like naked as I led my class through warmups and floor exercises. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit I had maybe fantasized about it before. If he hadn’t walked away Saturday night, if he hadn’t been the gentleman he was, I wouldn’t still be wondering this at all. But I knew the answer was no, absolutely not; I definitely wasn’t going to survive sleeping with Taron if just kissing him made me feel this undone.


	6. Hideouts and Hangups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been asking for it, and I have delivered, but don’t be fooled. This series promised you drama, and there’s so much more to give. I hope you soak up every sweet moment of this chapter! Enjoy! X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Smut

Two weeks flew by without me having much chance to do anything about the boy situation. Between my roster of classes, Rocketman rehearsals, and screen tests, with actual filming coming up far too soon, I couldn’t find enough time in my schedule to sit down with Markus and tell him how I was feeling. I refused to let him down in an off-hand manner at the end of rehearsal - he at least deserved more than that from me. I also felt suspended in a weird sort of juxtaposition, considering I was talking to Taron on the phone every night before bed but still had this weird emotional hangup because Markus was still attached to my life. I couldn’t fully move forward if I was still holding back. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became how I was feeling about the two men.

“Alright, hold still, honey,” a costume assistant said through a mouthful of pins clenched between her lips. I was used to costume fittings at this point in my life, having gone through many of them for the stage too, but I wasn’t used to Taron just walking in the dressing room in nothing but a robe and his skivvies, cup of coffee in his hand. I jerked in surprise, got stabbed by a pin, yelped “ouch!” and nearly toppled off the dais I was standing on. Taron, for his part, only pulled the edges of his robe around himself and grinned at me, but it was far too late; I’d already seen the hair lightly splayed across his chest, the taut muscles of his stomach, and those thighs that could make anyone melt.

“Good afternoon, Juliette,” he said as I tried not to blush but I could feel the redness creeping up from my neck.

“Taron, h-hi,” I stumbled slightly.

“T, your costume is set up in the other room. If you need any help Brigette will be back shortly,” my assistant said, still dutifully pinning away as I tried to remember how to breathe.

“Ahh yeah, thanks, I think I’ve got it,” he said, giving me a small wave and disappearing into the other room. _ Did he really just walk around set like that? _ I wondered. Not that he had anything remotely to be ashamed of. I knew Taron was obviously busy with scenes us dancers weren’t a part of, and nothing was ever shot in order. But his apparent lack of self-consciousness had also taken me by surprise.

“You’re all done, sweetie. Let’s get you out of this and on your way,” the assistant said to me. I quickly shimmied out of the pink outfit and handed it off so it could be finished and then slipped back into my regular clothes, which really just included a leotard and sweatpants. I never claimed to be fashionable. The assistant hurried off to go do something and so, having a moment of courage, I knocked on the door of Taron’s dressing room and then slipped inside.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Taron said as soon as I had the door closed behind me. I turned around and spied him sitting on the couch, sipping his coffee still but dressed in a pair of red pants and a white button-down shirt.

“I… I missed you,” I said quietly, a bit unsure of myself.

“Come here, love,” he smiled, opening his arms for me and I gladly walked into his embrace, hugging him tightly for a long moment before laying my head on his shoulder.

“I’m not used to seeing you with long hair,” I smirked, teasing my fingers through the ends of the wig lightly.

“It takes some getting used to,” he grinned. “But I can handle the wigs much better than what they’re going to have to do to my hair later. Unspeakable things,” he said with a shudder.

“It’s fine, Taron, I’ll still find you cute,” I joked lightly, making him grin and pull me in for a kiss. These were the kind of moments we had lately, stolen bits of time between rehearsals and call times. I spied a blue plaid jacket hanging on the edge of a chair. “So what scene is it today?” I asked curiously.

“Me and Kiki Dee, or the ever lovely Rachel Muldoon,” he grinned. “It’s the ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ scene,” Taron replied. “Which Richard Madden interrupts whole-heartedly,” he said with a cute grin; I loved how much he adored his friend and co-worker.

“So, you should show me more of your costumes,” I giggled, just teasing him really but he instantly hopped up off the couch and pulled me up with him.

“Why not, love!” he grinned, pulling the door to the dressing room open and then peeking out to see if anyone was nearby, but we were mostly alone in the costume department. He sweetly took my hand and led me to where the rows upon rows of costumes were hung. “Holy shit,” I said under my breath, a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of sparkle.

“It’s a bit full on, innit?” he grinned, as I carefully ran my hand over the fabrics.

“Yeah, just a bit. I know you haven’t had a chance to wear all these yet, but do you have a favorite?” I asked.

“Oh, I do. And it’s the craziest one of them all!” He chuckled, showing off a bright orange neoprene number with rhinestones ( _ I’d later be corrected that they were real Swarovski crystals _ ) and devil horns and massive feathered wings.

“You’re going to be wearing that,” I said, staring agape at Taron slightly.

“Didn’t you say you’d find me cute anyhow?” He teased lightly, ruffling my hair until I slapped his hand away playfully.

“It’s just a bit intense is all. And really orange,” I smirked, pulling a feather boa off a rack and wrapping it around myself playfully. “I couldn’t imagine dressing like this every day,” I giggled, picking a pair of sunglasses and carefully placing them on my face as well.

“Well look at you,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder as his green eyes met my own blue ones in the mirror’s reflection.

“Have you managed to talk to Markus yet?” he asked gently, knowing it was a bit of a touchy subject with me.

“Haven’t had a single chance, Taron. I’ve barely seen you, you know,” I sighed, turning to him. “I’ll do it, I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he said, sweeping my hair back off my shoulders. “I’ve just found I don’t like sharing all that much after all,” he said, his voice reaching a deeper timbre as he leaned in and kissed me, taking my breath away as he always did. His hands drifted down to my waist as I kissed him back, getting lost in the feel of those soft, needy lips against mine. He walked me back until my butt hit the edge of a table, then hoisted me up on it so I was sitting and melting a bit into the racks of costumes behind me.

As our kisses heated up, Taron knocked the glasses I was still wearing askew on my face but I could care less as he slowly slipped the shoulder straps of my leotard down my arms, leaving his trail of kisses along my jaw, down my neck and scattering them across my collar bones. I couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped, Taron pressed against me between my legs. I felt his lips working their way across the skin of my chest, drawing lines of fire across my skin as I let my head drop back, and when he groaned slightly himself I instantly felt the throbbing response in my groin.

But then he pulled back, panting and looking slightly unnerved and quite obviously turned on, as my eyes drifted below the belt. “Why did you stop?” I asked, trying to sound anything but the desperation I felt in the moment.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a costume closet,” he said, running his fingers through his wig with frustration. “You mean more to me than that. I shouldn’t have gotten carried away,” he tried to apologize as I awkwardly hiked my leotard straps back into place.

“It’s...um… fine, T,” I said, clearing my throat and hopping off the table.

“I want to, believe me,” he said, turning his intense gaze on me, his eyes full of lust still. “But this is not how I carry myself. And not what you should accept either,” he added, though he couldn’t resist stealing another kiss from me before we finally had company.

“Oh, Taron dear, there you are. They’re asking for you,” a brisk woman said as we nearly jumped away from each other and Taron tried to hide his obvious bulge.

“I’ll be right there, Brigette,” he replied in an oddly strangled voice, and whether Brigette thought anything about what we were up to or not she didn’t let on. I quickly returned the glasses and boa to where they had been and brushed a feather or two off my leotard, still feeling turned on and awkward.

“I’ll see you later then?” I asked, and Taron sighed and nodded.

“Yes, of course. We’ll figure out dinner soon, promise,” he said, giving me one of his signature adorable grins. I was often the subject of such sweet smiles that always made me melt a little inside. We parted ways and I swung into the bathroom first before returning to rehearsals, trying to calm my body down but that was difficult with thoughts of Taron still racing through my mind. While I was washing my hands, another girl bounced in and seemed thankful to see me there. “Oh please tell me you have a tampon on you,” she pleaded. “Having a bit of an emergency.”

“Mmmm, yeah, I think so,” I said, digging one out of my purse and handing it to her.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” she said, disappearing into one of the stalls as I stood frozen to the spot with the sudden realization that I was overdue for my own. By a week.  _ Oh fuck _ , I breathed out slightly, my stomach clenching uncomfortably as I tried to think back. But I couldn’t think my way around it; I was regular without exception and I was a week late. Maybe, I thought, reaching for any straw, maybe because I’d been dancing so much more now my body was thrown off and having to adjust. _ That could totally be it _ , I thought, desperate for a way to not freak out about this possible scenario. I had to force myself to go back to rehearsals and try to focus on the routine.

I fairly fled the studios when we were done, running to the nearest convenience store and trying to not hate myself as I pulled a couple of different tests from the shelf. I stared at the floor as I was rung up, the girl behind the register exceptionally chatty. I bounced impatiently, nearly leaving my change at the counter just so I could get out of there faster, shoving the bag deep in my purse before taking the tube across town to pick up my daughter from my mum’s. After homework, dinner, cartoons and lights out, I finally had a moment to shut myself away in the bathroom, my bladder screaming at me as I’d been holding it the past hour.

I stared at the tests in my hand for a long moment before chickening out, not sure I was ready to know that answer yet. I peed and shoved the unopened boxes in the bathroom cabinet, sighing to myself and feeling things I couldn’t identify; fear, probably, anxiety, sadness, but also a little bit of hope and maybe even joy. But how this could potentially affect my life, if it were real, I wasn’t ready to face just yet, and so I tucked myself into bed and tried not to think, ignoring both Markus’ and Taron’s texts.

It took me a week before I could face that reality, another week where my period had yet to make its arrival, another week of anxiety and worry. I’d finally managed to nail down another dinner date with Markus for the following evening, and I needed to know this answer before I faced him again. But almost as if my prayers had been answered, when I went to use the bathroom at the studio knowing full well what awaited me at home, I wiped and there was blood and I screeched “yesssss!” out loud and heard an answering giggle in the next stall over. “Sorry, don’t mind me,” I said, crying slightly out of relief.  _ Thank god _ , I thought, not even caring that I’d slightly bled through onto my underwear and leotard. I wasn’t pregnant, and that’s all that mattered.

I practically floated through rehearsal and the rest of my day, texting rather steamy things with Taron long into the night and then slightly regretting that when I woke up exhausted the next morning. I slogged through work at my studio and got ready for my date with Markus, repeating in my head what I had decided to say to try and let him down gently but firmly. I needed to make it clear my heart was very much elsewhere.

But damn if he didn’t look fantastic that evening, in a blue-checked button-down and grey jeans and his signature beanie. We ended up actually having a fantastic dinner together, laughing so much my sides hurt and I somehow forgot I was supposed to be breaking up with him. We went back to his place to watch a movie and cuddle a bit, and my moment not only came but passed me by as well. Because instead of breaking up with him, I ended up making out with him instead. Which led to us sleeping together (and yes, he wore protection this time, no question) and me waking up in the morning naked next to his sleeping form, and feeling a mix of things but not one of them regret.

_ What the hell has happened to me?  _ I wondered, watching Markus sleeping. He was more my type, and we understood each other. He didn’t light the fire in my chest, certainly, but I liked him and I belonged with him, more than I would ever belong to Taron. I knew that intrinsically as I reached over and gently ran my fingers through Markus’ curls. He woke up and captured my hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing my fingers sweetly.

“Morning,” he smiled at me beatifically, tugging at my heart a bit.  _ This is the person I should be with _ , I thought, but somehow there was a sadness that crushed me. I still did my best to muster up the good feelings I had with Markus and had an enjoyable breakfast with him before heading home, my tail figuratively tucked between my legs. I had failed my mission miserably, and I’d have to find a way to admit that to Taron too.

Once I was home I called Madison and begged her to come over and help me sort the mess of my life, and she was all too happy to oblige, bringing over tacos and chips and salsa which we gorged on as we talked, our legs tucked up under us on the couch.

“So let me get this straight. You went on this date to break up with Markus, and you slept with him instead?” she said, shaking her head and trying to hide her smile behind her fake sternness.

“For lack of a better explanation, yeah,” I said weakly. “He’s not a bad guy, Mads, and I can’t make him into one. He was so sweet and fucking handsome too and we just clicked really. One thing led to another and, well, you know.”

“Mmm, yeah, I don’t really but… Why be with a guy you don’t have feelings for?” she asked.

“But I do like him, and he gets me,” I said. “And he’s more on my level,” I added, and Madison rolled her eyes at me.

“But he doesn’t make your little heart pitter-patter like Taron does. You’ve told me that yourself,” she smirked around a bite of taco, half of the filling dropping back into the wrapper when she took a bite but she seemed none too bothered. Troy, however, lifted his head up from where he’d been laying on the floor and licked his chops, eyeing her food carefully.

“Yeah but maybe that’s just lust, I don’t know. Just because I want to jump his adorable little Welsh bones at every second doesn’t mean we’re in love,” I sighed. “I’ve made wrong decisions in the past, you know.”

“Oh, I know, Juliette. I’ve scraped you out of a few of those. But the thing is, you just really need to sleep with the guy and get that out of the way and then make your decision from there,” she said, making my jaw drop as I stared at her.

“Did you, innocent little Madison, just advocate for me to sleep with Taron?” I asked as she giggled.

“Well, you’re on unequal footing here. You’ve already done the deed with Markus. How can you compare the two when you haven’t had sexy times with your actor boyfriend?” she giggled. “Give him a little something,” she smirked, shimmying at me slightly until I threw a balled-up napkin at her.

“You’re the actual worst,” I laughed, and she just grinned.

“I’m invested in this now! I need to know what he’s packing!” she teased, making me blush hard.

“Shit, Mads, I’m not going to survive this,” I laughed, almost nervously.

“I have a feeling it will make your decision incredibly easy, that’s all,” she said, scooping up her taco fillings with a chip and shoving it all in her mouth.

“Let’s hope so, Mads,” I sighed. “I need a sign from the Gods.”

*********

The next week flew by in a bit of a blur, as we got ready for actual filming of the Honky Cat scenes. We did a few screen tests with our costumes and the lighting and sets, and I unfortunately managed to see myself on that screen test. When they say the camera adds at least 15 pounds they aren’t lying; I couldn’t stop staring at how chunky I looked in that bubblegum pink outfit. I needed to lay off the takeout and start eating more restrictively, that was for sure.

Even if Taron had whispered in my ear the sorts of things he wanted to do to me in that costume, and even if the other snotty girls still called me twiggy bitch when they knew I could hear them, I couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure. I’d be immortalized on film now, and the last thing I wanted was to forever hate how I looked.

Letting myself go had never been intentional, and I stood in front of the mirror in my unders and bra, scrutinizing myself extra hard that night, poking at my stomach and my thighs and my hip bones. Places I wished Taron would touch me, of course. Almost as if I had summoned him with that thought, my phone rang and I nearly tripped over my discarded jeans to get to my phone. “Heeey!” I answered, flopping on my bed unceremoniously.

“Tomorrow. You and me. It’s happening,” he said, and I gasped slightly before my brain caught up and I realized he just meant dinner. “I’ve weaseled my way out of night shoots because I can’t stand not having time with you for weeks on end. I was thinking we could have a nice dinner at  Circolo Popolare if that suited you. I mean, if you had someone to watch Clara, of course,” he added in haste.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I said a bit faintly, still reeling from the thoughts I’d just been having. “I miss you too, Taron, but you shouldn’t take time off on my behalf.”

“Nonsense, you’re my girl,” he replied, making me squeal internally to hear those words. “I’m also bloody exhausted. Dex could tell, so this was an easy decision. So after we finish Honky Cat tomorrow I’m free.”

“It’s the big tap sequence tomorrow. You sure you’re ready?” I teased lightly.

“I’ll smash it. After all I had the best mentor ever,” he said with a grin. I could just imagine the way his eyes crinkled up when he did that.

“Not going to lie, it will be nice to move on to something else. I randomly hum the lyrics all the time now, in the grocery, on the tube. It’s driving me and everyone else around me mad!” I laughed.

“Well then you’ll just get the next thing stuck in your head, but is it really a bad thing when it’s Elton?” he chuckled.

We chatted a bit longer but soon I was tucked away in bed, trying to fall asleep but too excited over my impending dinner with Taron - and what might happen after. The inevitability of it felt both intimidating and exhilarating at the same time. My period had been shorter than normal, only a few days and not so awful, but I figured that had to do with my sudden increase in physical activity, which made sense. Some elite dancers circumvented their cycles entirely for years until they finally slowed down, so it wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon. Either way, I was just happy to have that out of the way now and be able to fully enjoy my evening with Taron, whatever that entailed.

The next day of filming went as smoothly as possible but also felt excruciatingly slow. How Taron managed to keep up his energy through take after take after take was beyond me. But seeing him play off Richard and seemingly having the time of his life felt like a special thing to witness. Even when he tripped up their stairs he laughed at himself good-naturedly. I could see why all of his co-workers always spoke so highly of him. He kept everyone at ease and laughing between takes and was just truly a professional about the whole thing.

When Dexter called the final cut, all of us, actors and dancers, were none too happy to hang up our platform shoes. “See you in a bit, pick you up at 7?” Taron smiled at me, but I could see the exhaustion in the tight lines of his face. He trusted me enough to let me see him that way, beyond the performer he was to everyone else.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I grinned back, our fingers linking briefly when no one was looking before he wandered off to go talk to Dexter about something.

I hurried home and showered quickly, needing to rid myself of as much dancer sweat as possible and shaving every inch it was possible to shave, half-wondering if Taron even cared about that. I had a quick phone call with my daughter, who was safely stowed away for the night with my mum after Zayn had picked her up at school. I was seriously shocked at my ex’s newfound level of responsibility, even asking me for more time with Clara after having missed out on so many years of her life.

Once my hair was somewhat dry, I quickly tousled in some product to make my waves stand out and not look like such a frizzy mess, quickly did my makeup and changed my outfit about 13 times, figuring I was being completely silly because Taron had already seen me slouching around in leos and sweatpants. If he could think I was cute then, did it really matter what I wore to dinner? The place he’d chosen was mostly casual, so I finally decided on a pretty flowered blouse I loved and a cardigan and skinny jeans, and pulled those on over my lacy underthings just in time for the doorbell to ring and Troy to sound the alarm.

I grabbed my purse and managed to hold Troy back from attacking Taron when I opened the door. He looked simply beautiful in a fitted burgundy blazer, white tee and the tightest jeans known to man. They were probably skinnier than my own pair, and the thought made me giggle. “Hello beautiful,” he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek before patting Troy quickly. He offered his arm for the simple walk to his car, and I couldn’t help enjoying every little thing he did to make me feel special.

We made our way across town, arriving at the packed restaurant but Taron had wisely called ahead and made a reservation. The vibrant place was a sensory overload - There was a bank of windows that let plenty of the fading evening light in, but other walls were covered floor to ceiling in bottles of wine in every shape, size and color, while greenery, flowers and lights hung down from the ceiling. It was beautiful and overwhelming all at once. The food was much the same, the Sicilian fare both mouth-wateringly good and incredibly indulgent. I’d have to start my diet tomorrow, I thought, as Taron and I both tucked into carbonara pasta, burrata pizza and tiramisu. And oh the wines, though I was careful this time; no too-drunk rejections for me this time.

The company wasn’t half-bad either; I could stare at Taron all damn day if I was given license. We laughed and he was affectionate, touching my knee or my arm, leaning in to steal a kiss every so often, and generally being attentive and sweet. I was having a hard time understanding why I had ever given Markus a chance when I was with Taron. But there was still always a part of me that felt like I was an interloper in his world; like I was the lucky fan who had won a date on some reality show. I was borrowing my time with him and some day I’d wake up and find this was all too good to be true.

“Something troubles you?” Taron asked, breaking into my thoughts; I must have been frowning or something.

“Oh, no, I was just thinking,” I shrugged. “Not sure about what,” I said, as he gave me a measured stare.

“I have a feeling you know exactly and don’t want to divulge,” he said quietly, so I could barely hear him over the din of the restaurant. “I don’t want secrets between us, Juliette. You can tell me literally anything.”

“I know, Taron, and I’m grateful for that,” I smiled over at him. “We could take this somewhere else though,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking with sudden nerves.

“Sure, we could go back to my place for a small nightcap if you wish,” he offered, but I shook my head.

“I can’t forget about Troy, he’ll be needing let out,” I replied, and Taron playfully smacked his forehead as if to say “I forgot.”

“Of course, we’ll swing back around to your place then,” he said, and with that decided, he paid the tab and we headed out. We made small talk on the way back to my place, and I was relieved once we were distracted momentarily with my dog, tossing a ball and letting him eagerly fetch it in the back garden. The porch light deepened the shadows on Taron’s face and I couldn’t read his expression. Once Troy was done with his doggy business, we retired inside, as it was still cold in the late evenings. I found us some wine, which neither of us drank much of, and we settled in on the couch to talk.

“You didn’t end things with Markus,” Taron asked, interpreting my silence as such, and I cringed slightly.

“I was going to, but I chickened out of it, and I don’t know why, and I’m sorry. Because I thought you’d be mad at me. I know how you feel about him,” I started to explain.

“I’m not mad. If anything, he got to you before I did, really, but I am jealous. I don’t understand why someone else gets your heart,” he admitted.

“But that’s the thing, Taron, he doesn’t, not really. When I’m with you it feels so easy and so simple. But there’s a part of me that still doesn’t believe I belong with you. Like somehow the world will figure out I’m just an imposter by your side,” I said, biting the inside of my lip until I tasted blood.

“No one else gets to decide that for me. I rather like to think I decide who belongs in my life. I don’t understand why you think you’re not good enough. You could be a janitor or burger flipper for all I cared about what you do. It’s your soul that I admire, your spirit that you keep hidden from the world but that you let me see. It’s the way I feel safe with you to just let down the defenses, to stop being the performer. You bring peace to my soul in a way no one else has.” I gazed at him, my heart tripping through every possible emotion at lightspeed. How did he manage to make me feel more in a single sentence than I’d spent a lifetime trying to feel?

“Taron, I…” I tried to say, but my brain utterly failed me in that moment.

“You let me see into you, but all I see are walls. I want to be let past them, and I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I get glimpses through the cracks and I only want more. Open up to me, trust me, and I’ll give you everything I am, Juliette. You can have it, it’s all for your taking. I don’t ask for much but please just let me in.” He leaned in, cupping my face with his hands, brushing the fingertips over my cheeks, gazing so deeply into my soul I felt undone. “Please,” he pleaded with me again. 

All the past pain and mistrust, the hurt and mistakes, the being left behind and completely invalidated, the fear of trying again, rushed to the surface, but Taron was none of those things. He’d only ever sought to support me, and be kind to me, never asked for more than I could truly give, and put my needs before his own. The way he felt about me was purer than anything I had ever experienced; I knew without a doubt that he was sincere in every word he said to me. He wore his heart on his sleeve and now he was extending it to me.  _ Take it, Juliette _ , I thought.  _ What was there left to fear but the fear itself? _

“Okay.” It was one simple word that would change the course of my life forever. Because it was then that I finally discovered what it was to truly find someone who couldn’t get enough of you, who complemented your soul in every way, who filled in the cracks and made you shine again.

When he brought our lips together, it was simple and sweet. He was still cupping my face as our breaths mingled, our eyes gazing into each other’s for that one moment that felt frozen in time. I could kiss Taron forever, and get lost in the feel of his lips against mine, and the way he looked at me like I was truly the only person in the world he saw.

I nudged his nose playfully with mine before kissing him back, a little more purposefully, my hands finding their way to the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he gasped slightly at that. We both wanted more from each other and it certainly hung in the tension between us as we deepened the kisses once again, his hands finding their way under the hem of my blouse and gently whispering over my skin. We weren’t going to stop this time, and there was no reason to now.

“May I?” he asked, tugging at the hem, and I nodded as he pulled the blouse up and over my head and set it aside gently. His gaze lingered for a long moment on my breasts in their lacy bra, and he had to take a steadying breath before going back to kissing me, nipping at my lower lip slightly before traveling his kisses along my neck again, right in the spots he had discovered I liked best, his fingers never leaving my skin either as he slowly leaned me back on the couch. He rid himself of his own shirt and though I’d seen his bare chest before, it wasn’t in this capacity, and I couldn’t resist reaching out and splaying my hands over his skin, a slight sheen of sweat already present and it only made him sexier to me.

He dropped his kisses lower, over the lace of the cups, making me gasp slightly before he reached around and unhooked my bra, sliding it down off my arms and tossing it unceremoniously somewhere. He heard it land and then Troy’s nails skittering across the floor and both of us had to laugh at that. “I think you startled my dog,” I giggled lightly before Taron shut me up completely by taking one of my nipples in his mouth, rolling it about with his tongue. I’d never felt that sensation before, and I moaned loudly despite myself.  _ Holy shit, I was well and truly losing myself to him _ .

“Bedroom, now,” he said, pulling me up and holding my hand as we fairly raced to my room, half-naked and desperate for each other, knocking into the walls a few times as we tried to steal kisses from each other. He pulled me into more heated kisses as we both clumsily rid ourselves of our pants before falling into the bed together, his weight settling over me, pressing me into the mattress as he buried his face against my neck for a long moment.

“No turning back now, love,” he said softly, his teeth grazing along the shell of my ear and sending shivers along my spine.

“I want you, I’ve been wanting you. I have no doubts about this now,” I whispered. He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for a second but found no trace of doubt there.

His hand slid down my body, over the curves of my hips, before dipping below the waistband of my lacy panties and between my legs. I gasped at the same time he groaned, feeling how wet and ready I was for him. He captured my lips in another kiss before pulling those panties off me entirely, and then his boxers followed quickly after. I couldn’t help but stare, his erection springing up against his stomach, already glistening. “Bedside drawer,” I managed to choke out, as he reached over and fished out a condom and wasted no time in rolling it on.

He nudged my legs apart and settled himself between them, his thick cock nestled against my thigh. I keened softly in anticipation; he was so careful with me, so caring, as he lined his hips up with mine, slowly pressing his way inside me, letting me adjust, but oh the sensation was delicious. I wanted nothing more than to feel him filling me up completely, and I moaned out my pleasure as he joined out bodies together, his eyes dark with lust as he gazed down adoringly at me.

“Fuck, love,” he said roughly, holding himself up over me and looking about as undone as I felt before he started to move those glorious hips of his. There was no pain with him, only pleasure, and more than I’d ever really felt before. But there was something else happening, something in my heart unlocking, as we brought ourselves higher and higher. There was having sex, and there was making love, and now I finally understood the difference. Because Taron didn’t just want the physical act, he wanted to connect in a more meaningful way. 

Even as his hips snapped powerfully against mine, as he hit every delicious spot inside me and drove me wild, he also touched something deep inside my soul. Our climaxes built and we lost control with each other, our moans and grunts and groans ricocheting through the empty halls of my house as my orgasm rocketed into and through me first, and Taron not far behind. He collapsed on top of me, and I could feel his heart hammering away in his chest as we laid there, trying to come down from our highs. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, tears in my eyes, having experienced something I didn’t even have words to describe.

“You amaze me,” he finally whispered after long moments of us trying to catch our breaths.

“Not so bad yourself,” I teased him softly, as we shifted slightly on the bed so we were laying face-to-face, pulling the covers around us thanks to the chill in the air despite my heater being on.

“Juliette, I… I love you,” he said softly, caressing my cheek and looking like he was about to cry, which got to me slightly. “I knew it before but you’re the most incredible woman I have ever met in my life. I love everything you are,” he said, nuzzling his nose against mine sweetly, such a deep look of vulnerability in his expression tearing at my soul.

“I love you too, Taron,” I said, knowing it was 100 percent true. I didn’t have to worry over that feeling for days; it was bursting open in my heart right there. I wanted to spend every last minute I had with him, and give him everything; maybe even marry him someday. He loved me, he loved Clara, he loved my life and wanted to be a part of it; I could see it all spelled out so clearly in front of me. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a sleepy smile. He kissed me a few times, soft and slow and sweet. I felt loved and adored by him in everything I was.

We laid like that for a while before he slipped into sleep; he was so exhausted, I hoped he was resting well. I managed to not wake him as I got out of bed to take care of the house quickly, picking up our discarded clothes, putting the wine away, making sure Troy was settled and the house locked up tight, before slipping back under the covers with him. Even in his sleep he turned to me and wrapped an arm around my body, making me feel secure in that embrace. I loved him, the words and thoughts and feelings rolling through me in waves of light and color. I hadn’t believed it could be this way, but now I had experienced it. How had I ever thought settling for just okay was good enough?

I watched Taron’s sleeping face for as long as I could keep my eyes open, wanting to take it all in, the vulnerability and sweetness of his sleeping expression. I never thought I’d be one of those lucky women who had the privilege of seeing this but here I was now, skin to skin with him, his body heat keeping me warm, his tiny little snore endearing to me too. As I drifted off to sleep, I could only think how truly, madly, deeply I had fallen for Taron Egerton.


	7. Secrets and Sorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter tore the hell out of my emotions, and I actually expect it to do much the same to you. I’d apologize for that but I know you’ll all stick with me to the end, because the story has a long way to go to get to that happy ending you all want so much! Enjoy! X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None

The next three weeks were some of the best weeks of my life. Being Taron’s girlfriend, being loved by him, was an exceptional experience. Despite both of us being incredibly busy and in the thick of filming, he never let a day go by where he didn’t remind me in some way that I was loved and that I was his. I’d never had a relationship that had felt so genuinely real and sweet and supportive, and it made a difference in how I felt about my own life to that point.

One of my favorite moments had been the evening I was making dinner, some kind of cauliflower pasta recipe Taron had agreed to be the guinea pig for. He and Clara were seated at the dining table, going over her fractions homework. Clara’s frustration at not understanding the problems was palpable, but I just remember how patient and calm Taron remained until that look of understanding dawned on my daughter’s face. They’d both looked up at me, leaning in the kitchen doorway, with the sweetest looks on their faces.

Their bond was growing every day, made even stronger when, unbeknownst to me, a special delivery had been made of a Steinway upright studio piano so Clara could continue her lessons at home. I will never forget the look on her face when she realized it really was hers and it would be staying in my front room. Taron rebuffed every “you shouldn’t have” I tried to give him, telling me he knew first-hand how important it was to be supported in the pursuit of your art. I couldn’t deny him that, because I knew it to be true as well. Still, a few internet searches later made me gasp at how much he had spent on us; I knew I could never repay him.

But that was just the thing; he didn’t want or need repayment. He did things for people out of the kindness of his heart; he never expected someone to give him a favor back. He was generous to a fault, and whether he knew how much money he was worth or not, he never affected an attitude that he was affluent. He remained the working class boy he’d spent his childhood growing up as, the boy who needed financial help from his family just to audition for RADA. And I think I loved him even more for that.

Trying to pin Markus down, though, that was a whole other story. I knew I needed to tell him we were definitely done, but every time I tried to make plans to grab a coffee he had something else come up. We were dancing every day, learning choreography for both “Saturday Night’s Alright” and “Bitch Is Back,” and my body hurt in every way it was possible to hurt. Both of those pieces were massive, and when they secured set locations we would have to be ready to go. 

I’m pretty sure I spent more time at Rocketman rehearsals those few weeks than I did teaching my own classes, but I was beginning to wonder if Markus was blowing me off because he already suspected what I needed to tell him. I had finally decided to just grab him after rehearsal that day and make it final, and the stress and anxiety of it made me feel slightly queasy.

We had just finished rehearsal and Leah immediately came up to me before I could pull Markus aside. “Are you okay?” she asked me, and I shrugged.

“Of course. I mean, I’m with Taron now anyway,” I said, watching Markus flirt a bit shamelessly with another dancer, and she was all-too-happy to be receiving his attention. I’m not really sure how someone could manage to make a leotard look slutty, but she certainly got an A for the effort.

“Markus can be a dick, forget that. What I mean is that you’re really pale but your cheeks are also really flushed,” Leah said, staring at my face.

“Oh, that, I don’t feel great, no,” I shook my head. “I’m kind of nauseous, but hey, I’m here. The show must go on,” I said, giving her a faint smile.

“Or it really doesn’t if you’re really sick, Juliette,” she said. “Maybe you should sit down for a moment.”

“I just need to deal with Markus and get home and take a nice long soak and get some sleep. I’ll be fine,” I said, giving her a tight smile even though I was fighting the urge to lose my lunch at that moment. “See you tomorrow?” I said, and she nodded, still looking concerned. But when I turned away from her to find Markus, he had already disappeared, and I was in no state to try and chase him down.

I changed into my sneaks and gathered up my bag and, as I was leaving, had to make a detour into the bathroom to puke after all. I hadn’t had much to eat that day anyway, so it was mostly orange Gatorade and bile and I felt worse for throwing up, since it was now burning in my throat and sinuses.

“Ugh, fuck,” I groaned as I left the stall, trying to wipe the clammy sweat off my forehead. The truth was that I was waking up most mornings feeling a little ill and sometimes it lasted long into the day. I was beginning to think I needed to go to the doctor, but it seemed to come and go at random. I imagined it was likely just stress from everything going on, but it would probably be wise to see the doctor anyway. I washed up, splashing water on my face, and smiled as I scrolled through my texts. Taron never failed to make me feel better no matter what.

I left the bathroom and passed Riley and her posse hanging out in the hallway, ignoring their stares and the whispered comments on how I _must_ be bulimic because that’s why I was always running to the bathroom during rehearsals and why I stayed so skinny. I had no idea what they were talking about, and ignoring them was always the safest bet, but their bullying still got under my skin some days. I wished I could turn to them and tell them off, but that probably wouldn’t satisfy anything or make me feel better.

The subway ride to my mother’s to pick up Clara, and subsequently home, made me feel even more queasy, and I lost my appetite for dinner for the rest of the evening. After I helped Clara with her homework, her piano lessons, and made her food, I ended up just laying in front of the telly, exhausted and lacking any energy, for the rest of the evening. It wasn’t the most inspiring end to the day, and just as I was crawling into bed, Taron called me. 

“Hey love!” he replied when I answered the phone, probably sounding as sleepy as I felt.

“Hey T,” I groaned, rolling over slightly in my bed, all of my muscles protesting.

“Everything alright?” he asked, the excitement draining from his voice slightly.

“I just feel miserable, honestly,” I said softly. “I think I might go to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Oh, babe, you should have called me over. I’d bring you the best soup my mam made to make me feel better,” he said sweetly.

“I just need sleep. And probably strong drugs,” I mumbled into the phone.

“Do you want me to go with you tomorrow to the clinic?” he asked, and I shook my head before realizing he couldn’t see that.

“I’ll not have you cancel on your film scenes to go wait in a clinic lobby. I’m sure it’s just some kind of bug. I’ll be fine,” I insisted, and I could hear him pacing on the other end, the way he did when he was anxious about something.

“Alright, but if you need me, you know I’ll be there, right?” he said quietly.

“Of course, babe. I know that. With my whole heart, I know that,” I smiled softly. We chatted a bit more but I couldn’t hardly keep my eyes open, and soon we ended our call and I passed out.

I actually felt better in the morning, enough to keep some dry toast down, and after seeing Clara off to school, I managed to teach my first two classes of the day before taking my lunch break to go to the clinic. My stomach had started to churn again, and I was ready to just be over this stomach bug. I got checked in and had to groan at the long wait time, having to text the Rocketman choreographer that I’d be running late to rehearsals but he only told me to take care of myself and he’d see me later, and to let him know if that somehow changed.

I was a nervous wreck by the time my name was called, and after having my vitals checked (and frowning over the fact that I’d gained 10 pounds despite my diet restrictions) and explaining my symptoms to the nurse, I was left to wait in the room for another 15 minutes, shivering in the cold air. I bounced my knee and aimlessly scrolled through Facebook until the doctor came in. After describing my symptoms, yet again, even though they were in my chart, the doctor asked if there was even a remote chance that I could be pregnant. And since I couldn’t answer that with utter confidence, she made me take the dreaded urine test. 

I was so nervous I nearly couldn’t do it, and then had to wait even longer for the results to come back, my stomach tied in knots for an entirely different reason. I’d had my period, though, so I’d never thought to take the home tests I’d bought. I’d believed that was a sure sign I wasn’t. _But what if I’d been wrong?_ I thought to myself, my head a complete jumble.

When the doctor knocked and came back in the room, interrupting my train of thought, I nearly fell off the table for having been holding my breath so long. I was clutching my phone in my hand so hard my knuckles were turning white.

“Well, Juliette, your symptoms are very explainable by one very simple thing. You are indeed pregnant, about seven weeks or so,” the doctor replied, as gently as possible.

“But it can’t be,” I whispered, feeling the walls of the room closing in around me, the tightness in my chest threatening to overwhelm me. “I had my period,” I said stupidly.

“Many women still have menstrual cycles, especially in the first trimester. It’s quite common, and some can even exhibit period symptoms throughout the entire pregnancy. But the results are very clear,” she explained sympathetically after gauging my reaction as not-of-the-excited variety.

When I didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, the doctor continued, giving me a prescription to help with the nausea and telling me I needed to follow up with my Ob-Gyn. I could only nod my head, still frozen in the ocean of confusion, fear, anxiety, joy and excitement that came with “You’re pregnant.” _Where do I go from here?_ I had no idea.

I left the clinic in an absolute daze, and instead of going to Rocketman rehearsal, I ended up wandering around Regents Park, not really seeing anything at all as I worked through the torrent of emotions and thoughts and questions inside my head. Seven weeks meant the baby was definitely Markus’ - that was the only good thing about this situation. I wouldn’t have to spend months wondering who the father might be. 

But now I wasn’t sure what to do; I was in love with Taron, but how could I possibly ask him to carry this burden with me, to take this responsibility on when it was another man’s? Even more so, I was adamant that Clara know her father; I would fight just as hard to make sure this baby knew his or hers. And I had yet to actually leave Markus, so maybe the right thing to do was to decide to be with him even if it didn’t make my heart entirely happy. I now had a responsibility to this baby to not be selfish, to not choose only my own happiness but what would be best for all of us.

I gently touched my belly and smiled for a moment; a new chapter in my life was most definitely beginning.

I finally made it to rehearsals, texting Taron that we needed to talk later, as soon as we could manage to find time. He responded immediately that he’d meet me after rehearsals were over, so I spent the next few hours trying to dance through my anxiety. As soon as I stepped out of the rehearsal room, bag slung over my shoulder, Taron was there waiting for me.

“Juliette, darling, everything alright?” he asked, kissing me on the forehead and making me feel intrinsically sad.

“No, not really,” I said softly, nodding toward one of the empty studios. We stepped inside and instantly I felt smaller, diminished by what I was going to do, a lesser person somehow.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” he asked, his eyes wide and full of the vulnerability that had endeared me to him, my hands clutched tightly in his.

“I can’t do this,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure he even heard me. “I can’t be with you, Taron,” I mumbled, hearing his sharp intake of breath and feeling it like a knife wound in my heart.

“What the hell do you mean?” he asked, slowly dropping my hands and staring at me.

“I have to break up with you. I’m going to choose Markus,” I said numbly, unfeeling.

“You told me you loved me,” he said, the hurt in his voice hurting me.

“That was a lie,” I said, trying not to tear up. I’m not sure I sounded even remotely convincing.

“No, it wasn’t a lie,” he said, shaking his head and calling my bluff. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, at all. I don’t understand it, but I won’t play these games with you,” he said, waiting for me to explain myself. But I couldn’t tell him about the baby now; it would only hurt him further. “I gave my heart to you. You can’t just toss it away or pick it back up when it’s convenient to you,” he said, not an ounce of anger in his words, only resignation. His eyes were a bit red at that point, and if I wasn’t already feeling low, seeing him nearly cry would have broken me down further.

He sighed heavily when I still said nothing. “When you’re good and ready to love someone proper, come back to me. But until then, I wish you all the best,” he said gruffly, tearing himself away and leaving me standing alone in the studio, the pain in my heart echoing silently off the walls.

****

It turns out that I deserved the biggest Oscar award in the world. To act sincerely happy when your heart is shattered into a million jagged pieces is no small feat. Markus, for his part, was beyond thrilled that I had chosen to be with him after all, and while he wasn’t Taron in any capacity, he was still kind to me at least. I had yet to tell him that I was pregnant though; somehow that felt like a secret I needed to protect until the moment I couldn’t hide it any longer. 

For now, I continued to dance, eating anti-nausea meds like Pez candies and trying to find the right balance between eating enough food to sustain myself and the baby but not so much that I’d gain any more than I had to. If the production never found out I was knocked up, then no one else would have to be the wiser. I hadn’t told my mum yet either, afraid of her judgment, nor Madison, even though I desperately needed to talk to someone about this. All she knew was that I had decided to cast my lot in with Markus and that I was, according to her, figuratively insane.

The worst part was the cold politeness I now received from Taron any time we ran into each other at the studios. I hated what we had become, hated the pain I had caused him and myself. I knew he’d shut himself down to protect his own feelings against me, but knowing how warm and compassionate and open he could be just made this feel even worse. Still, I knew for certain that he couldn’t know about the baby, and so I bore the ups and downs of the pregnancy for weeks in silence, sometimes dreading getting out of bed, sometimes full of a strange energy I couldn’t explain. But glowing I was not; I mostly felt bedraggled and exhausted, so much that even Clara asked if I was sick one day.

But you can only go so long without support before you totally break; I learned that lesson the hard way. Five weeks later, after a back-breaking rehearsal, I just totally felt something inside me snap. We were about to start night shoots for the “Saturday Night’s Alright” scenes but I couldn’t even muster the excitement I had originally felt when I signed my contract. I felt like I was going through the motions of everything, and I was worried I wouldn’t even be a proper fit for the film. I was living a lie, only partly happy in this pseudo-relationship I was trying to build with Markus. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t me, and keeping the baby a secret was crushing me. I also desperately missed Taron, and I can’t tell you how many times I nearly dialed his number, because I knew despite everything he would have picked up the phone, and he would have listened, and he would have tried to help me find a solution even if he wasn’t with me. That was just the person he was; I felt like I had lost my best friend.

I pulled Markus into the same empty studio I had broken Taron’s heart in, and sat down on the floor, my hips aching something fierce.

“Markus, I have to tell you something. Please don’t freak out,” I said quietly, as he sprawled out on the floor next to me, his sweaty shirt sticking to his muscular chest.

“What is it, babe?” he asked, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. While I loved when Taron called me babe, something about the way Markus said it always made me cringe slightly. For a moment I nearly chickened out in telling him my news, but I couldn’t keep going on like this. At some point he would notice when I was naked that my just-beginning-to-show stomach bump was more than just a large meal I wasn’t even eating.

“You remember that first time we had sex, right?” I said, looking over at him and biting my lip.

“Of course I remember that,” he chuckled. “I fell for you that night,” he said, a boyishly cute grin on his face.

“Yeah, well, we did a lot more that night than just sleep together. Markus, we made a baby. I’m pregnant,” I said quietly, but my words still sounded too loud.

“Woah, no way,” he said, sitting up immediately. “You… you’re sure of that?” he asked, and I nodded.

“I had a test at the clinic, I’m sure,” I said. “I’m twelve weeks already.”

“And you’re sure it’s mine?” he asked, making me sigh.

“Of course it is. Taron’s always used protection, for one, and for two, the timeline is right. It was you.”

He was quiet for a long few minutes, trying to process this news, I’m guessing. “You’re running out of time then,” he finally spoke.

“Running out of time? For what?” I asked, confused.

“Well you’re not going to keep the thing, are you?” he said, and I couldn’t help it, my jaw dropped.

“Of course I’m going to keep your son or daughter. This baby isn’t some ‘thing.’ It’s not garbage you throw away,” I said, feeling the anger rising in my chest.

“Woah, I didn’t mean it like that Juliette. But I sure as hell am not ready to become a father,” he said, holding up his hands to me.

“You don’t get to make that decision now, Markus. You have to take responsibility for what you did,” I nearly hissed. “And what about Clara? You can’t date me without considering her!”

“Yeah, but Clara’s old enough to wipe her own ass. And I’m not her father, she already has one of those she spends time with. I’m fine with that, but a baby is a whole other story. You can’t possibly want this too, it will ruin your career,” he pointed out, and I could only stare at him, unable to process what he was saying.

“My career? Being a mum was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life and I will choose my family over my career every single day of my life. But of course, you wouldn’t know what that’s like because you don’t even want to try,” I said, my face flushing red.

“I’m sorry Juliette. I just can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d support you if you want to, you know, terminate it, but I won’t be the one raising it,” he said. “I’m not going to shatter my life like that,” he continued.

“Then get out. Get out of my face. Don’t ever talk to me again,” I said, my voice shaking in both anger and anguish. “This baby will be better off without someone who doesn’t want it. But I do, and my baby will always know how much I love him or her.”

I buried my head in my hands, bursting into tears as I heard Markus leave the room without another word. I’m not sure what I had expected, but that was not it. I hadn’t remotely prepared myself for the possibility that he would have wanted me to get an abortion, that he would reject fatherhood so thoroughly. Were any of us ever ready to be a parent, even people who had looked forward to it for so long? There was something so deeply terrifying about being responsible for the needs of such a tiny human being, of trying to help them thrive in a world meant for destruction. But that was also the greatest role I had ever held, far more rewarding than any production I had ever graced the stage in. And it wasn’t until the words had left my mouth that I realized how deeply, fiercely I wanted and needed this baby too.

I have no idea how long I cried in that empty studio. I have no idea who discovered me like that through the tiny window in the door. And I have no idea who went and got Taron, but suddenly he was there, pulling me into his safe, comforting arms. I don’t know how long we sat like that, until I had long cried all my tears out and my body had stopped shaking and his fingers grew tired of stroking my hair.

He had stayed silent, patient, until I finally pulled away enough to sit up on my own. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” he asked, absolutely no judgment in his voice. His expression was nothing but kind and compassionate, worried for my well-being over his own.

“I found out I was pregnant five weeks ago,” I said softly. “That’s why I was feeling so ill. I went to the clinic and we did a test. I was already seven weeks at that point. I thought … I thought it would be the right thing to do to give Markus a chance to be the father of the baby he created with me but he wants no part in it. He told me to get rid of it, and I can’t,” I whispered.

“That’s why you tried to break things off with me?” Taron asked gently, smoothing back my hair from my face as I nodded. “Oh Juliette,” he said softly. “I knew there was something, some reason for it. I knew that wasn’t what you wanted, that you were breaking your own heart. I’ve only been waiting for you,” he said, making me want to cry again. “I am here for you in everything, through everything. And we will face this together too. When I told you I loved you, there were no conditions attached. And I love Clara too, and I will love Markus’ baby as it were my own. Because that’s how I love, endlessly,” he said, and my eyes watered up again.

“I can’t ask that of you, Taron,” I said, wiping at my face hastily, but he just reached over and gently brushed my tears from my cheeks before gathering my hands in his own.

“You’re not asking me to do anything. This is something I need too. Maybe it doesn’t happen exactly the way I imagined it would, but that doesn’t mean I can’t accept it, adapt to it, and grow with it. Life has a way of challenging people, but that doesn’t make it all bad. And I right imagine that this could be so much more of a blessing, yeah?”

“My God, you’re a saint. An absolute angel, Taron. I don’t deserve this, at all. I pushed you away,” I said, trembling slightly so he pulled me back into his arms and kissed my forehead sweetly.

“I’m just Taron,” he smiled. “And you do deserve to be happy, and to be loved, and to be absolutely fucking cherished. So I am here for as long as you want me to be here,” he said. “I never really stopped.”

“Even with this?” I asked, touching my belly, which I had started to hide beneath dance sweats because leotards just weren’t cutting it anymore.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he grinned and I’m pretty sure I broke apart in a whole new way at that statement.

“Taron,” I breathed slowly, just gazing at him, feeling excited and a bit bewildered too. “Are you sure?”

“100 percent, Juliette. Now stop asking me that because I won’t change my mind,” he chuckled sweetly. “Now let’s get you up off this floor, and let’s go have a celebratory dinner, shall we?” he said.

“But don’t you have more filming to get back to?” I asked, a bit wide-eyed and still feeling a bit like I was floating a few feet off the ground. My head was swimming with the crazy turn of events.

“Dex understands. You needed me, it’s really as simple as that,” he replied, helping me stand up and even shouldering my stinky dance bag himself, making me roll my eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Taron, not invalid,” I teased him and he just shrugged.

“I’d carry it for you any day,” he smirked, even holding the studio door open for me too. “Get used to it,” he said, before playfully slapping me on the bum as I walked by. “Also just wanted to do that,” he said cheekily, making me groan at that but also feel so grateful that we hadn’t lost what made us feel so special.

“So who all knows about this?” he asked me as we walked out to his car.

“Just you and Markus, really. I hadn’t told anyone before today,” I said softly. “I couldn’t handle it on my own anymore. I was feeling so alone.”

“Well you aren’t alone now, at all. And you should tell your mum, and Madison. Tell them the baby is mine if you like, if you’re worried about anyone judging you. It might as well be, because I’m going to love it that way,” he said, squeezing my hand in his. “But you should feel happy, and proud, and excited. I want that for you,” he grinned, changing everything about the fear and confusion I’d felt just a few weeks before.

“How are you so perfect, Taron?” I asked, shaking my head in awe of him.

“I just wear my heart on my sleeve. It’s not that hard to care about people more than yourself. I find that pays itself back in dividends. And it’s not hard to love you, you know. You’ve brought a lot of color and light into my life in a way I didn’t understand it could be before,” he said softly. “And now I have even more to look forward to.”

“Damnit, T,” I said through the blush rising in my cheeks. “I don’t know how to handle when you say things like that,” I laughed. “It’s like living inside a fairy tale.”

“Fairy tales were written because the truth in them does exist. They aren’t unattainable, impossible figments of our imagination. They can be elusive, yes, and rare, but sometimes you do find yourself living inside one.”

I could only gaze after him as he unlocked the car, opening the door for me again, as I felt every bit of myself being put right again. We decided on our favorite pizza place, but I first made him stop by my house so I could shower and change into more suitable clothes. Clara was with Zayn that night, so we took our time eating and enjoying our relationship again, a relationship that nothing could seem to derail.

I had the idea to stop over at my mum’s, because of all the people who should know, who had been through thick and thin for me with Clara, it was her. Taron almost seemed cutely nervous as we sat on the couch and I broke the news to her. My mom honestly screamed in excitement, jumping up and enveloping us both in a bone-crushing hug. I had no idea why I was so worried about her reaction after all; we never mentioned the baby’s lineage and let her assume since Taron was there. We figured it would be easier this way, to not have to deliver the news with a long introductory caveat, and if the question came up later we could explain then.

As we were driving back to my home, it hit me with a sudden jolt that I would have to meet Taron’s parents, and that we would be sharing the news with his family too. Something about that made everything feel far more real to me, that this was honestly going to be my life. That I would truly become a part of his life, not just in the few dates we managed to squeeze between rehearsals and film sequences, but that we would honestly be creating a life together. There would be many things to have to discuss and figure out in the near future, but tonight wasn’t the night for all of that.

Later, when we were laying on the couch, my head in his lap, the telly on a low murmur and both of us trying to not pass out, everything just felt right. Troy was snoozing on the rug, and I felt as emotionally satisfied as it was possible to feel, and far too stuffed with pizza than I had a right to be. I didn’t have to put on any kind of show with Taron; there was no performance here. We could both comfortably be ourselves, even if that was tired and cranky or moody or whatever.

“Tomorrow’s a big day,” I said with a yawn.

“God, don’t remind me. Night shoots,” he groaned playfully.

“I think it’s exciting,” I grinned. “The set already looks insanely cool. I can’t imagine it all lit up at night!” I smiled. We’d already had a few camera blockings at the carnival they had built specifically for this scene. I was honestly excited about the four days we’d be shooting tomorrow, despite the massive amount of logistics that would go into it. We were definitely in for some long, long nights.

“You think that because you haven’t done it yet,” he giggled. “Speaking of, we should probably head for bed ourselves now. Try to store up some of that energy we’ll be needing.”

I grinned at that and happily followed him back to my bedroom. We both quickly got ready for bed and fell into it, and I was all too happy to see him resting between my frilly sheets and pillows. “You’re cute,” I grinned, kissing the tip of his nose, which he wrinkled in response.

“Well don’t give me a big ego about it,” he teased me lightly, pulling me down to him so that I squealed and then kissing me proper a few times.

“Get some sleep, love,” he smiled, his eyes already drifting shut in exhaustion.

“You too, T. Thanks for saving me today,” I said softly.

“Always,” he breathed out, falling asleep shortly after, his eyelashes sweetly resting against his cheeks in slumber.

Despite my own exhaustion, I was still a whirlwind of emotion and I couldn’t quite fall asleep, so I silently slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone, sitting on the bathroom floor and calling Madison even though it was late and not caring if it woke her up.

“What on earth is going on with you!” she fairly screeched into the phone when she answered, clearly not asleep. “You’ve barely talked to me for weeks. I’m so-”

“I’m pregnant!” I cut in, and she instantly stopped what she was saying.

“What?!” Madison yelled into the phone, so I had to hold it away from my ear for a moment.

“Jesus, Mads. Calm down. Things have really changed,” I said, explaining why I’d broken up with Taron, how things went down with Markus, and that Taron had been more forgiving than I deserved him to be toward me.

“So you’re back together again?” she asked softly.

“Yeah. I’m not sure we really were ever apart. He knew I hadn’t made the decision I wanted to make. That the lie was that I didn’t want him. He knew that the whole time. He truly knows me better than I know myself,” I smiled softly.

“And what about, you know, Markus’ baby?”

“That Markus refuses to acknowledge? Yeah, Taron said it’s his now. He wants to be a dad, and he’s claiming this as his.”

“That’s love, right there, Juliette. It’s staring you right in the face. Don’t you dare ever try and throw that away again, you hear? I will kick your little ballerina ass with my own pointe shoes if I have to!” she squealed, making me laugh too.

“I think I’m done screwing everything up here,” I replied with a laugh. “The universe couldn’t be louder and clearer.”

“That’s for damn sure. Now I’m just curious when he’s going to put a ring on that finger of yours!” she giggled.

“Woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet,” I cautioned.

“Dream a little, Juliette. He’s obviously a bit of a romantic. You know he’s going to make an honest woman of you. You’d better get on Pinterest and start planning. Oh, and I’d better be your maid of honor,” she said, making me laugh again. I listened to her chatter on about weddings and babies and all the possibilities, feeling bemused but also a little hopeful. I had no idea what a future with Taron looked like, not really, balancing kids and our careers. But I was certain that it would be happy; not easy, not perfect, but always fulfilling and supportive.

“Alright, Mads, I should go,” I said with a yawn, breaking into her reverie of my own someday maybe wedding.

“Oh, of course. Momma ought to get her baby rest,” she teased me, but it was all in love and excitement for me.

“You know it,” I giggled. “And that hottie in my bed tonight, snoring away,” I snickered.

“Jesus, you lucky bitch,” Madison joked, sort of.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grinned. “Night, Mads. Love you long.”

“Love you hard, Juliette,” she grinned back before we managed to hang up the call. I leaned my head back against the wall for a long moment, smiling to myself. I could honestly do this - I could have a happy life, I thought to myself.

I used the toilet one last time, already starting to feel the need to do that more often, before slipping back into bed with Taron, realizing just how much I had missed seeing the silhouette of his sleeping form. We had grown so comfortable with each other, that that absence over five weeks had been misery. But like magnets, we had found our way back to each other, his openness, vulnerability and forgiving heart never once questioning whether I should be in his life. He already knew that was where I belonged, and I loved him so much for never doubting it. I needed him, and he accepted that, and trusted so much of himself to my broken heart.

“Love you, T,” I said in the darkness, brushing my fingers lightly through his hair, before settling in next to him, feeling every ache and pain, emotionally wrought, but also feeling a deep satisfaction too. There was a certain courage in what he was choosing to do, and I respected him whole-heartedly for it. The universe had given me the greatest gifts, the man beside me, and the baby inside me. As I fell into the sweetest slumber, I promised myself I wasn’t ever going to let go now.


	8. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot happens in this chapter, and it’s quite dramatic. The chapter bears its name well; you cannot outrun the consequences of your actions, as our beloved Juliette will soon find out. I hope you enjoy this emotional ride! X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Trigger warnings for subtle eating disorder and slight medical drama

Night shoots, I quickly learned, were a special sort of experience. Most of us had tried to nap before the call time, and we were all standing around clutching cups of coffee, full of caffeine and running on adrenaline. The choreography for “Saturday Night’s Alright” required every dancer that was hired, and a cast of extras simply to fill the background too. The amount of crew and the rigging required to give the number an expansive feel also added to the sheer number of people on set at the moment. The volume level was almost too much, with everyone chatting excitedly.

I was standing with my usual group, minus Markus, who was giving me an extremely cold shoulder by not acknowledging my presence at all. I couldn’t blame him, though; I’d told him to never talk to me again, after all. But now that it was the next day and my simmering anger had dulled, and I’d managed to smooth things over with Taron, I wondered if I hadn’t acted out too irrationally. Blame the baby hormones, I thought ruefully to myself.

Being on that carnival set, amongst the twinkling lights and magical atmosphere, made us feel like we were transported somewhere else. And I certainly hoped that effect would come across on film when it was all said and done. My favorite part was the massive Ferris wheel, ablaze with color. I spotted Taron, talking animatedly with Dexter, and when he looked over I gave him a small wave, which he cutely returned.

“Ugh, adorable,” Leah commented, making me smile behind my coffee cup lid as I took another sip. After what felt like a waste of an hour, we were finally called into place. We discarded our coffees and dumped our jackets and bags and went through last-minute costume checks, the costumers nit-picking over the littlest details, adjusting collars here, snipping stray threads there. We had already been walked through some preliminary blocking, but now that the cameras would be turned on, we all wanted things to be as perfect as they could be. The less takes we all had to do for each beat, the better.

Still, that constant ripple of excitement and thrill ran through all of us and kept us going as the nightly hours wore on. Watching Taron in his element really felt like a treat though. How he managed to turn that energy on and maintain his performance level take after take after draining take was mind-boggling, really. And whether he was tired or not, he never showed it, and he stayed positive and kind to everyone around him. But even though the work itself was exhausting, I still loved everything about it. 

The track itself was phenomenal, and Taron’s vocals were strong. I never got tired of listening to it no matter how many takes we did. Giles Martin was a genius, keeping the original integrity of the song but building segments of the different musical influences that Elton had been exposed to and incorporated into his music over the many years, and those flavors had also been used in our dance styles. The choreography was engaging, energetic and exciting, and being a part of this musical number certainly felt like being a part of something much larger than ourselves. The sequence was a crucial part of the storytelling, and needed to feel as youthful and adventurous as Elton’s life was during that time.

I had to admit that I was more than happy when they finally called that night’s filming to a close, as the first creep of dawn was just beginning to tinge the sky. I felt the exhaustion and soreness in every fiber of my body, and blearily changed out of my costume, located my bag in the pile, and wearily made my way off the set and toward the tube station before realizing someone was calling my name. I whirled around, nearly knocking myself off my own feet as I stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk.

“Juliette! Hey, wait up,” Taron said, jogging over to me and sweetly brushing his fingers over my cheek, still somehow not looking exhausted. “Clara’s with her dad and your mum has Troy. Can I just drive you over to my place?” he asked, and I was so tired I didn’t bother arguing, and nodded instead, letting Taron slip his arm around me supportively.

“How are you not completely exhausted?” I grumbled.

“Well, I’m not pregnant, so that helps,” he quipped lightly. “But I’m also just used to it, I think. Not exactly the first night scene I’ve ever been in.”

“I can think of a few,” I smiled. “Bit of a fan of your work, here,” I teased lightly.

“Well you nearly have to be, now that you’re dating me,” he smirked back, and I cracked a smile despite my exhaustion. I sank gratefully down into the plush of the car seat, fighting off falling asleep right then and there. The last thing I needed was Taron taking it upon himself to carry me to bed, as sweet of a gesture as that would be.

“I think today went well,” Taron spoke into our tired silence.

“Really well, at least on our part. It’s always one thing to rehearse a dance. It’s another to see it in the place, in the world so to speak, the lights and colors and costumes. Something about that just made everything feel much more real today,” I replied. “And you… You totally killed it.”

“I don’t know if I killed it, but I wager I gave it everything I had,” he smiled, looking over at me.

“Well, I think, from what I’ve seen, you’re carrying this whole damn thing.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, running his fingers through his hair in the way he did when he felt humbled by something.

“Well I do,” I smiled, more to myself than anything.

“I am so ready to crash,” he yawned when we finally pulled into the drive and parked. 

“You and me both,” I sighed wearily. We made our way inside, and I realized oddly that I hadn’t been in his home for a fair bit. It felt just as cozy as before as he led me to the bedroom, pulling me to him for a couple of sweet kisses before we both got ready for bed, too tired for anything more. He did his best to try and block the morning sunlight creeping across the floor, able to darken the room a bit, and we curled up together and were sound asleep within minutes, my brain for once too worn out to keep me awake.

The baby, on the other hand, had other ideas, waking me up a few hours later. I stumbled to the bathroom and wretched, hardly anything in my stomach to get rid of. I groaned slightly and splashed water on my face before returning to my slumbering boyfriend. I checked my phone briefly, scrolling through social media mindlessly, waiting for sleep to find me again, but hunger found me first instead.

I got up and, still too exhausted to make anything else, popped some bread in the toaster oven, rapping my fingers on the counter as I waited for it to be ready. I smeared some butter on, then took a few bites, chewing slowly, my hand resting on my belly. But then the part of my brain that worried about calories kicked in, and I found I couldn’t eat another bite. I tossed the rest of the toast in the trash and reminded myself I needed to stay away from carbs as I returned to the bed, not entirely satisfied but at least my stomach had stopped gurgling uncomfortably.

“Mmmm,” Taron murmured next to me, turning over and sliding his arm over my waist and nuzzling into my neck. “Can’t sleep?” He asked, cracking his green eyes open and looking at me.

“I got sick. And then I got hungry,” I smiled, as his eyes drew down to my stomach, his fingers splaying out under my sleep shirt and caressing my skin there sweetly.

“This will be worth it in the end,” he said gently, kissing my forehead. “Try to get some more sleep. Tonight will be difficult if you don’t.” I nodded at that and tried to let him soothe me back to sleep, and I eventually did end up drifting off again.

We woke with enough time to shower, make some dinner, and watch a little telly together before heading to set and doing it all over again. The second night seemed a little easier, but maybe it was just because I knew more of what to expect, the lag between scenes, the flurry of activity, the massive rigs swinging around and being readjusted constantly, the dead space where we had to try and keep our bodies warm, the constant makeup and costume retouches, the attempt to keep our energy up through the slog of what felt like a 14-hour night. We had fun with some bumper cars and there might have been more horsing around than actual dancing during that sequence.

The next two nights felt a little more laid-back, as a bulk of the large group shots were already done. The transitions into and out of the scene, with the bar and with Kit Connor, who played the mid-aged Reggie, were the focus of those days, so I spent more time sitting around than anything else, but that also gave me time to be curious about the behind-the-scenes machinations of putting a movie together. I found it completely fascinating, so different and removed from what I did on the stage when I danced professionally, a completely different set of lingo I didn’t quite understand. What was a grip? A racking focus? A polarizer? I had no idea, but hearing people talk casually about the technical aspects made me feel curious to know more.

Needless to say, I was grateful when night shoots, at least for that sequence, were done. It was kind of saddening to see the carnival get dismantled, but of course it had only been put up for the film and I knew that. I had to return to my own crazy schedule, my daughter and my own students and trying to balance that with further rehearsals for “Bitch is Back” and time with Taron as well, though the next few nights he spent at my home with me. It wasn’t even a conversation we had, he just showed up every evening, joining me in making dinner and helping Clara with her homework and walking Troy and just generally filling a space in my home I hadn’t realized had been empty. Eventually I thought it was high time he had a key, so I made it a point to make a copy and give him one.

“You’re in the special group of people who gets one of these,” I giggled as we cuddled on the couch together, long after Clara had gone to bed.

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “And just how many people get a key to my girlfriend’s abode?” he chuckled.

“My mum, of course. Zayn, just in case something came up with Clara. Now you…” I smiled, as Taron flipped the key around in his palm slightly. He seemed a bit reserved about it, but then he’d been a bit reserved the past few nights. I chalked it up to just being knackered from night shoots until he sighed slightly and spoke my name in a hesitant manner.

“Juliette. I really need to ask you something,” he said, his eyes focusing somewhere just above the crown of my head.

“Anything, T,” I replied, even though a cold knot had formed in my stomach.

“Markus pulled me aside the other day and um, he wanted to pass along a few… things.” It was just like Markus to try and fuck everything up for me, even if we weren’t together. Even if I’d thoroughly ended things. Why could nothing in my world stay perfect, ever? I swallowed past the lump in my throat, willing my voice to not shake.

“I’m sure he wasn’t doing so out of the kindness of his heart,” I said coldly.

“Of course I took things with a grain of salt. We haven’t exactly had the best history, Markus and I, all things considered,” he said, finally focusing on my face, but the look of hurt that knitted his brows caught me off guard. “But he told me that you two were still together, that you slept with him again, when you had told me you wanted to be with me. When you were supposed to have broken up with him. And you never told me about that, and your nonadmission might as well have been as good as lying to me,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly.

“I… I’m so sorry,” I tried, my brain still processing what he was saying to me.

“I’ve been wrestling with this for a few days, whether to ask you about it or not. Whether to strike a divide between us or not. I’m forgiving, but relationships have to be founded on trust and communication, neither of which you’ve given to me, and that hurts.”

“I tried to break up with Markus. I tried to tell you that I failed. I felt so...humiliated and… ashamed. Of my history, of my weakness, of this shitty pattern I’ve never been able to get myself out of. I never meant it to hurt you, so I thought I could protect you from… me,” I said, stumbling over the words, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice. “You have to believe that, please.”

“I believe you, it’s just a misguided principle, really. Relationships sometimes hurt. Sometimes you have to be raw, and open, and vulnerable, and ugly in front of the other person, and sometimes that makes them hurt for you, because they love you. I want to accept your flaws, your imperfections, but I can’t do that if you won’t open up to me. I can’t do that if I can’t trust you to be honest with me. I can’t do that if you try to protect me from the difficult, painful bits. I can’t do this, if you won’t extend that to me,” he said into the dead silence of the room. My heart was near pounding out of my chest and I felt the need to get sick.

“What are you saying, Taron? Are you breaking up with me?” I asked softly, tears already threatening in my eyes.

“I just need...some time. To think. To know where I stand. I am hurt, and you’ve got to learn that there are consequences for your actions. But I’m not leaving you, no,” he said as evenly as possible. “I told you I loved you, through the hard times too. I stand by that. I just need you to try and earn my trust back,” he said softly, brushing his fingers lightly over my chin.

“Okay,” I sniffled slightly, feeling the shame burning in my chest.

He leaned over and set the key on the coffee table, the clink of the metal against the wood top making me cringe slightly, before he stood up and turned to me.

“I’ll see you around at the studios. We’re not going to be strangers. But there is this wedge we need to deal with, and I hope you can understand that.”

“I created it,” I said, a couple of tears rolling down my cheeks. But I couldn’t pity myself; I had done this. I had turned Taron away from me, yet again. I had made a muddled mess out of something that should have been good and pure.

“Hey, no need to cry. We will work through this, alright?” he said, tipping my chin up to look at him, but his face was fractured into a thousand tiny pieces through my tears.

“Why would you want to? Why aren’t you pissed off at me?” I asked, pulling away from his touch, his arm returning to his side awkwardly.

“I was, at first. But I try incredibly hard to not act out in anger. It never leads to anything good; it tends to cause more problems than it solves. I also know that even while you had promised to choose me, you really hadn’t, not yet. I wanted to believe I’d be enough to convince you...” he trailed off.

“Fuck, of course you are, T. You’re the best thing that’s ever really happened to me. And I keep trying to ruin it, so maybe you’d be better off without me dragging you down,” I said harshly.

“Stop, stop. I won’t let you talk about yourself that way,” he said, kneeling down in front of where I sat on the sofa, directly into my line of sight again. “Your self-loathing won’t help anything. Please see that.”

“Maybe I’m one person you can’t fix. Maybe no one can,” I said shakily, and Taron sighed deeply.

“I hope this feels better in the morning, but going around in circles on it with you all night won’t help either. I’m going to take my leave, and you should get some sleep, and we’ll figure out how to move forward together. That is, if you still want to.”

I couldn’t give him an answer so the silence between us yawned open until he stood up and placed a soft kiss on my forehead before gathering up his jacket and letting himself out the door. I’m not really sure how long I sat there, staring at nothing, thoughts whirling around my head. Time passed me by unnoticed until Clara padded barefoot into the room.

“Mum?” she asked, and I startled back into reality.

“Yes dear?” I asked, trying to push back the edges of darkness I felt threatening to overcome me.

“I got sick in my bed,” Clara said, starting to cry.

“Oh, honey,” I said, instantly sweeping up off the couch and going to attend to my sick daughter, cleaning the linens and giving her medicine and crashing in my bed with her that night, her feverish little body shivering next to me as I held her tight. At least I had this; I could look at my bright, inquisitive, beautiful daughter and know I had a hand in bringing her up in this world, hopefully teaching her how to avoid the pitfalls I’d fallen into in so many ways. I was grateful she was still young, that boys still had cooties and she was still years from her first kiss, her first love, her first heartbreak.

By the time the morning rolled around, neither Clara nor I had gotten much sleep, as much from Clara’s illness as from my dark thoughts. I called my mum to see if she could watch my sick kid while I went to teach classes and later Rocketman rehearsals, and of course my mum was all-too-kindly available to come over. I tucked Clara in her own bed, glad that her fever had come down overnight, and called school to tell them she wouldn’t be in that day while I waited for my mum to arrive. I made some coffee, desperate for the caffeine boost, and when my mum finally made it across town I blearily stumbled through my day. 

I couldn’t help glaring daggers at Markus’ back during rehearsals every time he wasn’t looking, which was most of the time, but I knew that was petty. It certainly wouldn’t make him apologize for ratting me out to Taron, and it wouldn’t take back what happened between us either.

By the time I got home I was completely exhausted, but Clara was feeling better and I couldn’t just crash out, even if my mum offered. I shook my head, telling her she’d done enough already for me, and sent her home with a thank-you pound note she tried to protest but I slipped into her purse anyway when she wasn’t looking. I ended up tossing a frozen pizza in the oven, but found it difficult to choke down the calories, while Clara didn’t seem to notice how little I ate as she chowed down on her slices. We watched a movie together, and I admittedly might have nodded off a few times, the Disney songs drifting in and out of my dreams.

I was so happy once Clara was tired enough to put to bed; I even skipped a shower just so I could faceplant in my bed that much quicker. I missed Taron’s warmth next to me as I pulled the blankets tightly around me. He promised we’d be okay, but what if he found more reasons to stay away from me in this temporary absence? What if he didn’t really miss me all that much? What if I was the one that was unlovable? I shivered slightly under the covers, the darkness creeping even closer than it had before in my mind, threatening to take over as I sank into a restless, dreamless sleep.

That darkness that resided inside my brain manifested itself in my attempt to control my calories; every little thing I put in my mouth had to be accounted for, and controlling my diet seemed to help me calm my nerves. Even when everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control, this one thing I could have total control over. I had exactly one scrambled egg white and 8 ounces of a protein shake in the morning, a 150-calorie protein bar at lunch, a handful of plain unsalted nuts for a snack to sustain my energy, and usually made some fish and vegetables for dinner. Eating for two was an absolute myth; I was religious about my prenatal vitamins and making sure the growing baby inside me was still getting the crucial building blocks it needed. But overeating wasn’t going to help either of us so I stuck to my routine, obviously varying things up for Clara so she wouldn’t be bored or wrinkle her nose up at my dinners. 

Over the next couple weeks of classes and rehearsals, I started to see an instant change in my arm and leg tone, and that made me at least happier. I had been needing to lose that unnecessary weight for years, and even if I couldn’t stop my belly from getting bigger, I could stop the rest of me from following suit.

As we headed full on into the summer months, the weather grew hot and sticky, as London weather was wont to do. We’d been rehearsing the Broadway musical-style choreography for “Bitch is Back” for a while in the studio, but were finally taking rehearsals outside, into the back lot to do some initial blocking. Taron was of course there, sporting some mockup cardboard wings that looked completely ungainly to manage. But somehow he did, as we danced our way through the piece and Dexter showed Taron and Matthew Illesley, who played the youngest version of Reggie, how the scene would operate.

I could feel the sweat trickling down my back, down my arms and legs, dripping off the edge of my nose. We were all allowed to wear our sunnies since it was a rare bright day in London and we weren’t officially filming yet. But when the production was able to secure the Pinner Street location, we would all need to be ready to go, so putting in this work now was important. They made us take a lot of breaks, providing Gatorade and water in massive jugs to keep us all hydrated, but I was beginning to feel rather sick to my stomach and had to fight through the nausea for the rest of the rehearsal.

Seeing Taron there, being so close to him and yet feeling far away, was painful. He acknowledged me, but it was mostly in a professional manner, and I could feel the difference in my bones. I wanted nothing more than to have him scoop me up in his arms and hold me to him, but that reality had been shattered.  _ There are consequences to your actions, Juliette _ , the words popping into my brain and making my heart ache. I couldn’t run from those consequences; the only way to move forward was to accept them and move through them.

But how was I going to be able to prove to Taron that he could trust me, when we weren’t even spending time together? What grand gesture could show him how much he meant to me? I wasn’t really sure, and these thoughts hounded me throughout the day.

The next few days were much the same, the temperatures staying sticky hot and making me feel worse for wear. Pregnancy and heat did not go well together, and I found myself taking a few more breaks than everyone else, coming up with some lame excuse as I hadn’t told anyone on set I was pregnant. Only Taron and Markus knew that, and well, we all know who actually did his part to check in with me, concern written all over his face.

But then rehearsals suddenly ground to a halt, and we were left in a strange holding pattern as the production moved onto other scenes, keeping to its schedule and of course keeping Taron very busy. We had a couple short rehearsals to keep the choreography fresh in everyone’s brains, but there wasn’t much else for us to do. I focused more on teaching my classes, texting off and on with Taron when he’d ask how Clara was doing.

<She’s got a recital next week, if you’d like to go. She’d probably like that; she’s been wondering why you haven’t been around as much. I just told her it was because of work.> I responded one evening.

<Of course, I’d love to go. Text me the details and I’ll be there.>

And be there he was, dressed in a sharp navy suit coat, a white shirt underneath, and pressed slacks, looking as handsome as he ever did. Sitting next to him was almost intimidating, stealing glances at each other, sharing awkward smiles with each other as we waited through student after student, some well-practiced, others not so much, waiting for Clara’s turn.

When she got up on the stage, I could hear a bit of an audible gasp from the crowd; my opinionated little girl had chosen to don a sequined, sparkly pink jacket over her recital dress, and she had on a pair of star sunnies too, “just like Elton!” she’d declared when I’d tried to convince her otherwise.

“That’s our Clara,” Taron grinned over at me with a chuckle, before looking down at my hand and slowly taking it in his. I sucked my breath in slightly, still staring straight ahead as Clara took a seat at the piano. “You look beautiful today,” he whispered in my ear, taking in the light summer dress I’d chosen.

“Thank you,” I said, glancing over at him, those dimples of his causing my heart to flutter again. That special thing we had, it wasn’t gone by any means. We sat through my daughter’s songs, Clara gamely making it through Bach and Debussey with only a few stumbles, before getting to play a chosen song. And of course she’d chosen “Your Song,” playing it with gusto to much applause and appreciation from the audience. She gave an enthusiastic bow after her performance and skipped off the stage, returning to us excitedly as we were still clapping for her.

“Lovely job, sweetheart,” I said happily, giving her a huge hug.

“I think Elton himself would be very proud,” Taron added, making Clara grin so big she was showing off her toothless gaps.

“Yeah, if only he’d been able to watch it,” she sighed, making us both laugh.

“He’s a very busy man, but maybe some day you could play for him,” Taron said, as I playfully slapped his arm.

“Don’t promise her that!” I hissed slightly under my breath, but Taron waved it off.

“I’m sure I could get it arranged,” he said, as Clara fairly begged Taron to stay around for dinner. He obliged, and it turned into a really decent evening, the first one I felt I’d had in a bit, even after Clara commented “ewww, fish again?” when I served us dinner. He stayed long enough to tuck my daughter into bed, but said he probably shouldn’t wear out his welcome, though we lingered too long at the doorway, unspoken words and feelings passing between us.

I was actually at the academy when I got the phone call that the Pinner Street location had been secured, and that we’d be needed on set within a few hours. I scrambled to get my afternoon classes covered and made sure mum could pick up Clara from school before heading over to the studios, arriving just in time to get through hair and makeup. We changed into our costumes and were all boarded onto a shuttle and driven across the city, dropped off on a suburban street where crews were already busy setting up rigging for the cameras.

The place was an absolute blur of activity as us dancers huddled in the shade of some trees, trying to stave off the bright sunlight. We used each other to stretch and warm up, a steady hum weaving through the shimmering air as directions were shouted loudly, people running frantically to and fro. I hadn’t imagined this much chaos as the rest of the production had always been incredibly orderly. But I supposed this could happen with locations in the streets; it probably was a pain in the ass to secure city permits to shut entire blocks down for filming. When the city gave you a window of time, you had to spring into action; there would be no dragging feet here.

This sequence, of course, was an important element of the story that brought Taron into the picture as a sort of segue from rehab into his childhood years. It involved the other patients in rehab and the counselor, a brass band, and Taron in a bright orange neoprene Elvis-inspired devil costume with massive wings. The first time I saw him in it I nearly tripped over my own feet. The costume left very little to the imagination, but it was also somehow fitting to the vision of Elton that Dexter and Taron had created for the film. Elton at times played the devil, but he could also be the angel, and in many ways he was neither and both at the same time in his own story.

I loved the energy of this part of filming; the heat, not so much. The makeup crew constantly had to step in and powder us all between takes, and I’m sure our costumes weren’t going to smell very nice by the end of it. The filming day was kept short, as there were heat advisories and the production certainly didn’t want anyone to pass out. The heat sapped the strength right out of my body, and I wondered at how weak I felt as I made my way home, knowing I’d have to fight through the next few days in the same way.

The weakness in my body didn’t really abate the next day, and was joined by more nausea. Even if I didn’t get sick, I still felt turned inside out. I could barely stomach water, but I made myself push it down nonetheless. If my performance suffered for it, no one said a word to me. The third day, the dizziness hit me like a sack of rocks, making me stumble into another dancer and completely ruining the take. I mumbled my apologies and tried to concentrate the best I could. My muscles knew the motions; my brain couldn’t keep anything straight so I tried not to think too much and let my body do the work it knew by memory.

But some things you cannot win against, no matter how hard you fight. Weeks of undereating had caught up to me, leaving me emptied out; spots began to dance across my vision, my skin flushed cold despite the heat, and I found it difficult to breathe. I vaguely thought someone was calling my name, but I couldn’t hear them over the rushing in my ears. The music continued on, but my body did not; I dropped to the ground and stayed there. I don’t remember hitting the pavement, but I came to with my face burning, pressed against the hot surface. I was dimly aware of people gathered around me, and I thought I heard Taron yell at someone to “get these bloody wings off” before bright orange swam into my view.

“Juliette, can you hear me?” he asked as he knelt down beside me, the material of his costume stretching taut over his thighs. I don’t know why my brain focused on that, but I couldn’t move my head enough to look up at his face. The crystals glittered almost painfully bright in the sun as my vision went in and out of focus.

“She’s probably got heat stroke,” one voice said.

“Give her some space,” another added.

“Where’s the fucking medic?” someone else in the throng of voices shouted, my brain picking these out amongst the murmurs.

_ Did I really look that bad?  _ I wondered, unaware of how crumpled I must have looked. Someone brought over an umbrella and at least shielded me from the sun; someone else tried offering water but I could neither hold the bottle nor swallow when it was poured into my mouth, vomiting onto the pavement instead, a strange thought that I should be embarrassed weaving its way through my brain, too wispy for me to grab onto.

I felt my body being moved as my pupil reaction was checked, my pulse taken, my body fussed over. Words were said that I didn’t understand and then I was being lifted through the air on a stretcher and pushed into the back of an ambulance. I flicked my eyes around at the faces staring down at me, the hands pushing IV lines into my arms, everything blurry and strangely in slow motion. And then I felt the sharpest pain in my abdomen, making me cry out. I instinctively tried to curl into a ball but the straps held me down, and I started to feel panic rising in my chest as another sharp pain wracked my body. I clutched at my stomach, gasping out something incoherent; this wasn’t right, and I knew it could only mean something terrible was happening.

“Oh god, the baby,” I heard Taron say, his voice sounding too loud and tinny to my ears, my secret spilled out for everyone within earshot to hear.

_ What was happening to my baby?, _ I thought, as more hands poked and prodded me, more needles stuck into my flesh, more words were said I couldn’t make sense of. All I could understand was the shivers that shook me, the pains that tormented me, the blackness that threatened to overtake me. The noise was too loud, the siren, the beeping machines, the medics’ voices, the rattling of wheels over roads as we sped toward the hospital, the hush of the cast and crew we left in our wake, growing in a cascading crescendo inside my brain until, mercifully, there was silence. I began to float into the void, the absence of noise, of feeling, of the physical realm, detached from what was happening to my body. The darkness came up to meet me, soothing me, warming me, easing me into slumber, the medicine working through my veins, easing the fire in my body. And then everything, everywhere, went black, and I was gone.

This is not the end of the story. Part 9 - Coming soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of the story. Part 9 - Coming soon.


	9. Recovery and Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know you all have been waiting to know the outcome of what happened after the cliffhanger I left with you last chapter. I truly apologize it took me so long to put this together, and I hope it lives up to all of your expectations. There’s not a lot of action in this, but there are a lot of emotions, so I hope you hang on for the ride. When things get dark, the people we love truly are the lights we keep fighting for. Always remember to be someone else’s light; it may save their life. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of an eating disorder, medical drama, subtle mentions of sex

Soft sheets, but not soft enough. Maybe the industrial-produced kind. A quiet whooshing noise. Dim light. The smell of antiseptic hanging heavy in the dry, static-filled air. When I first assumed consciousness, it hurt to open my eyes, so these were my first impressions of the world around me, from what I could sense. But while I could try to analyze the stimuli around me, I had very little sensation coming from my own body, and that concerned me more than anything. Of course, I was probably on strong painkillers, but the absence of pain made me feel no longer grounded. Instead, I just felt drained and lethargic, like it would take far too much effort to even lift my arm.

_ Where was I? What had happened? _ I fought through the mental fog clouding my thoughts as I tried to remember. We were filming, on set, of that I was certain. Flashes of dancing played behind my still-closed eyelids. I remembered how hot it felt that day, the shimmers of heat bending the air. I didn’t feel well, but I’d pushed through like the stubborn fool I was. I had… fainted? Collapsed? Given up? I wasn’t sure entirely, but now here I was, prone in a hospital bed and not sure what was going to happen next.

I groaned slightly and felt the need to move suddenly, shifting uncomfortably, slowly becoming more aware of the weight of tubes and wires snaking across my body. A low moan escaped me and then a voice asked “Juliette?”

I instantly popped my eyes open, the room a wash of white. I knew that voice, of course, but it wasn’t the one I’d been hoping to hear. “How are you feeling?” Markus asked concernedly.

“I’m stuck in a hospital bed, Markus. How do you think I feel? Like shit,” I said bitterly.

“Of course. Dumb question,” he said, not even blinking at my tone.

“Why are you even here?” I asked, staring at some point on the wall above his head. “And where is Taron?” I asked softly, despite myself.

“Your  _ lover _ has been here already, but he couldn’t stay. He had obligations beyond you. He brought your phone and purse, they’re over there,” Markus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But what happened to you, it concerns me too,” he said, not unkindly.

“Concerns you? Like you give a rat’s arse about me,” I said, angry at him, and angry at myself too. Angry at the world, really, but for what I couldn’t even define.

“It...affects me. Alright? I had a fucking personal stake in this whether I wanted it or not,” he said, his voice a bit choked up.

“What are you going on about, Markus?” I asked.

“The baby. Our baby. You … lost it,” he said, and I instantly felt my blood run cold.

“What?” I asked, struggling to sit up. 

“When they brought you to the hospital, you were dehydrated, and malnourished, and miscarrying. You lost the baby.”

_ No, no, it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real. I was still pregnant, I had to be. _

“You didn’t take care of yourself, so you caused this. You killed our child,” he continued, his words turning sharp, ruthless, cutting deep. The pain that blossomed through me, no drug could touch.

“No,” I whispered, horrified at this new reality. A reality I wished I hadn’t woken up to. I felt sick to my stomach, hitting the call button for the nurse, certain I was going to puke in my own lap. The tears threatened at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to cry in front of Markus. He didn’t deserve my tears.

“You didn’t even care. You wanted me to get an abortion. How is this different? Why are you using this to hurt me?” I said, gasping for air, feeling like my lungs were seizing up in my chest.

“Oh, Juliette, it’s just simply what you deserve,” he said, those steely eyes of his as closed off as a mask. He delighted in my pain, a pain I couldn’t escape. I slowly smoothed my hands over my stomach, my hip bones protruding prominently, feeling empty in a way I had never known, not even in my darkest moments before.

“No,” I said again, feeling the grief compounding in my chest. I hadn’t known I was pregnant for very long, but that didn’t matter. The bond had been instant, the hope for this baby immense. I was its mother and now I had nothing - I would never hear its cry, I would never be able to nurse it, I would never sing it lullabies in the 3 a.m. dusk. There wouldn’t be belly laughs and first words, rounds of patty-cake and jars of baby food. There wouldn’t be tiny fingers and tiny toes to kiss, the sweet smell of milk breath, the discovery of new things. And I wouldn’t be able to experience those moments with Taron either. I felt a pang so deeply in my soul for him, an ache, a longing for him just to hold me in that moment. But there was distance between us now, and I didn’t know how he would respond to all of this either.

A nurse with a kind face and brown hair pulled tight in a ponytail swept into the room after knocking. “Glad to see you’re awake,” she smiled brightly at me, but I couldn’t return it. She seemed to notice my distress right away. “Oh honey, let’s make sure you’re more comfortable,” she said, checking all of the med levels on the IV machine before checking my vitals and sitting with me as I fought off the urge to puke, clutching a bucket to my chest. Markus was silent through all of this, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just caused me this torment.

“I’ll see if I can get the doctor in here shortly to talk to you. You’ve had a rough go of it but we’re going to get you back to normal, sweetie, I promise,” the nurse said kindly. While I tried to appreciate her kindness to me, it was hard to pull myself out of the depressive pit I was sinking into. I could feel the wave of hopelessness clutching at the edges of my psyche.

“Markus, could you leave me alone for a while? I need to rest,” I made sure to say in front of the nurse, hoping this would mean he’d have no choice but to leave.

“I can sit right here while you sleep,” he said, almost smugly, but that just made the panic rise in my chest. I could  _ not _ be left alone with this man again.

“No, please, just go,” I said, clutching hard at the blankets.

“Perhaps it would be best if we give Juliette some  _ space _ ,” the nurse said, reading my distress and emphasizing the last word. She stood up and looked expectantly at Markus, who sighed and stood up himself after a beat of awkward silence, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“Good luck with everything,“ was all he said before striding out, and I felt both relief and also more alone than ever.

“Do we need to put a security alert out for him?” the nurse asked sympathetically, but I shook my head.

“Not necessary. He won’t be back. He’s my ex and, it ended painfully,” I said, wiping at my eyes quickly.

“He doesn’t seem like a very kind man,” the nurse observed. “You’re better off without him, honey.” After promising, again, to get a doctor in to visit me as quickly as she could and making sure I was otherwise comfortable, she left me with my thoughts, which were veering toward a dangerous place.

I finally had the space to let out the tears, crying so hard I knew I was leaving snot all over my pillow, but I didn’t have the capacity to care at the moment. Fat, hot tears rolled down my cheeks, unbidden, though I tried to keep the sobs that wracked my body as silent as possible. I could now place a finger on that empty feeling in my body; I was no longer pregnant, and I couldn’t hide from that harsh truth. The abyss of pain yawned wide in my chest, beckoning me into its darkness. I didn’t feel I had much to live for, and maybe non-existence would be better than this pain.

But then there was Taron, and if I had anything to keep fighting for, it was him. I couldn’t leave things the way they had been. I couldn’t allow my mess of a life to ruin his. This wasn’t how things should be. I sniffled slightly, trying to calm myself down. I’d spent my tears already, and now my head was throbbing and my chest hurt and my nose was congested, and I really didn’t feel any better. I saw a box of tissues on the nearby bedside table and grabbed one, wiping away my tears, my fingers brushing against a tube taped to the side of my face. I followed it to my nose, and realized, with a sickening shock, that I had been fitted with a nasogastric feeding tube; they were forcing nutrients into my starved body, and for some reason that made me angry.  _ Who’s right was it to decide that? _

But, rationally, that’s what had landed me in the hospital in the first place. That’s what had cost me my baby in the first place. They were trying to save my life, but was it worth it? That question would haunt me for a while.

I managed to doze off for a bit, exhausted by my emotions and my depleted body, but my sleep was restless, my dreams troubled. I woke to a very different presence in the room. “Taron.” I could barely make my voice work, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes already just to see him there.

He looked tired - no, exhausted, his hair a mess, probably stuck under a bald cap and wig all day, but there was only concern in his expression. Concern for me, but I’m not sure I deserved it. “Hey, I’m here now,” he said softly, reaching over and gently taking my hand in his, careful of the IV lines.

“Are you sure that you want to be?” I asked hesitantly, and Taron’s brow wrinkled like I was being ridiculous.

“Of course, why would I be anywhere else?” he asked softly, sweetly brushing my hair out of my face, his fingers coming to rest under my chin. “Seeing you fall put some things in perspective. I don’t want to hold onto my anger any more. So those things that happened before, they don’t matter to me.”

“But they should, Taron. They should. I lied to you, about a lot of things. I was scared, yes, but that doesn’t excuse it,” I replied weakly.

“And I’ve forgiven you, and it’s as simple as that. People say they forgive each other all the time but it’s not real if you still hold a grudge, if you still hold it against them. Real forgiveness takes trust and courage. All I know is that losing you isn’t an option for me. So first, we focus on your recovery. Then, we can work on the rest of it. Okay?” he said gently. I found it hard to meet his beautiful peridot gaze.

“But… You shouldn’t be with a baby killer, you’re too good for that,” I said resentfully.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I lost the baby. Markus said it was all my fault,” I whispered.

“Markus doesn’t know shit,” Taron replied instantly. “We both know he’s an idiot, and he doesn’t know the situation at all, so don’t you dare believe a word he says. I spoke with the doctor myself. The baby had a genetic defect, Juliette. It was never going to survive. Maybe the malnourishment contributed to this all happening at the same time, but love, it wasn’t meant to survive. You didn’t do this, okay? It’s sad, and it’s awful, and we’re going to mourn it, but please don’t take on that guilt as yours. It’s not,” he whispered, his eyes growing watery too. He paused to wipe quickly at his eyes. “I had hopes for this too, you know. I was excited for what could be, for us. I’m not going to let you feel alone in this. The baby is gone, yes, but you are still here, and you are what I have to focus on. I need you to get better.”

“I just don’t know if I can,” I said, closing my eyes and sighing heavily.

“What, get better?” he asked, knitting his brows together again.

“Move forward. I’m not strong enough. I’m not sure I deserve anything more.”

“Hey,” he said, “that’s not true. You’re one of the strongest people I know, next to maybe my mam,” he added with a cute laugh. “I’m sure right now it doesn’t feel that way, but I know you. I see you. It’s going to take time and it’s going to take as many steps back as you take forward, but you can move forward, and you do deserve to be happy again. It’s painful now, yes, but not impossible. You have so much to look forward to still. You have me.”

I opened my eyes again and gazed at him for a moment, feelings tumbling and crashing through me, the depression and grief clashing with the hope and love I felt for Taron. That was definitely something I think we took for granted in life; that emotions weren’t simple, black or white. They didn’t come to us one at a time, perfectly lined up so we could deal with each one in its time. No, life was much more complex than that, and oftentimes we were battered in a sea of emotion, in a constant battle of contradiction. How did anyone ever figure themselves out?

“One day at a time, Juliette. I just need you to fight for you right now,” he continued after watching me wrestle with my inner turmoil.

I nodded and closed my eyes again. “Just so tired,” I murmured softly.

“You should sleep. I’ll be right here,” he said, pulling the blankets up around me again. I couldn’t help but smile over his tenderness, something he still wished to bestow upon me despite everything we’d been through. I felt myself slowly sliding toward sleep again, and gratefully surrendered. 

I wasn’t asleep for long, though, as a doctor arrived finally to advise me of my condition. He explained some of the obvious, corroborating what Taron had told me about my miscarriage, and also some of the less obvious problems, the dehydration and malnutrition that had caused my collapse and an acute kidney infection resulting from it, which I was now on heavy antibiotics for, and a concussion from hitting my head on the concrete road. My bloodwork levels were incredibly out of sync, and my body had been crashing hard when they rushed me into the ER, which was likely why I felt like shit now, lethargic and headachey and exhausted. I was also assigned a therapist, whom I was going to have to have consultations with over acute anorexia nervosa and depression. In other words, I was a complete and utter mess.

But somehow even worse than all of that was the fact that I’d managed to sprain my ankle too when I’d fallen. My leg was bound in a heavy plastic boot, which I discovered when I hastily yanked the covers back. I gasped and shook my head in disbelief; this directly threatened my livelihood and I didn’t know how I was going to cope.

I tried to not have a meltdown in front of the doctor and nurse and Taron, but I could feel it clawing at my brain. I grabbed my phone to try and distract myself, surprised by the many text messages from other dancers and my friends who knew what had happened, at least. I tried to respond to those as best I could after the doctor and nurse had excused themselves. I had several voice messages from Zayn and my mother, and I realized I needed to let them know I was going to be okay. The production, of course, had already contacted them, as was protocol in an emergency situation. But to hear from me would probably be good.

Just as I was dialing my mum’s number, though, a knock came on the door and she popped her head in. “Mum!” I nearly cried, struggling to sit up and nearly getting knocked back into the pillows by her embrace.

“Juliette, my darling, darling girl,” she said into my hair, running her fingers through it before holding me out at arms length and looking at me. “Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again. You scared me half to death. I had no idea you were so sick,” she said, tears running down her face. “Why didn’t you talk to me, honey? I could have helped you, I could have…” she said, her words cut off by her sobs.

“Oh god, mum,” I said, also tearing up and trying to hug her again. “Mum, I’m fine. I’m going to be okay. I promise,” I said, my voice breaking slightly.

“I know, honey. But I feel like I should have seen it. I should have noticed you were hurting,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful of my leg, which was resting on a pillow now.

“Mum, I hid it from everyone that ever loved me. I’m still sick, you know... in here,” I said, pointing at my head. “But I have people in my life worth fighting for, and I know that. Clara, you … Taron…” I smiled over at him, caught up in the emotion I saw there in his face. “It’ll be alright,” I whispered softly, finally laying back into the pillows, already worn out but happy to have my mum there.

We talked quietly for a while, and I’m pretty sure I went in and out of sleep, at least until the nurse came back to check my vitals and suggested I should eat something. I had no desire to eat but knew this was a major test I needed to get over if I was ever to get this damnable tube out of my nose. So I would have to pretend until it was no longer pretend, until my brain didn’t see food as the enemy. I ordered something off the menu that sounded remotely palatable, but when it arrived even the smell made me want to throw up.

Still, with my mum and Taron there to support me, I picked up the applesauce and slowly peeled back the lid. “You can do this, Juliette. You need to do this,” Taron said, watching me carefully, a supportive hand on my knee. My hand shook slightly as I picked up the spoon and dipped it into the applesauce, staring at it for probably uncomfortably long before finally putting the bite of applesauce in my mouth. It tasted okay, and my stomach even gave a small rumble, realizing, even if my brain didn’t, that I hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours.

I managed to swallow that first bite, and then it was like something inside my brain snapped, and I wolfed down the rest of the applesauce without another thought. I was hungry, absolutely starving, and no matter how much I worried about calories and being fat, I couldn’t deny the almost-nauseous pain in my stomach any longer. Soon after that applesauce, I dug into the other food on the tray, eating greedily and not seeing the looks my mum and Taron were exchanging, words being said without a voice.

“I need to pee,” I finally spoke up, pushing the food tray away from me.

“I’ll call the nurse,” my mum said, reaching for the button.

“No, I’ve got it,” I grumbled slightly, peeling off the covers and awkwardly swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

“I think we should get some help, babe,” Taron said hesitantly, instantly going to support me, as I was a bit precarious on the edge of the bed. A wave of dizziness passed over me, likely a result of my concussion, but I wasn’t willing to let that win.

“I have to try,” I said, gripping the bed railing tightly and slowly lowering my feet to the ground, the boot making a clunk on the cold tiled floor. I winced slightly, aware that my ass, clad in a massive pair of mesh granny panties to absorb the blood from my miscarriage, was open to the world in the starchy hospital gown, but my bladder was insistent. My mum carefully unplugged the IV from the wall so we could wheel the tower into the bathroom, and I carefully shifted my weight into my feet. Despite the support the boot gave, a sharp crack of pain ran up my leg, making me cry out and reach for whatever was nearby; thankfully, that was Taron, and he kept me from falling to the floor.

“I think we should have waited for help,” he said, as he clutched me tightly to his chest, helping me hobble to the bathroom before I had an accident on the floor. I had to admit he was probably right, as I sat there on the toilet, groaning silently as I relieved myself. Taron leaned in the doorway, his soft, caring, gentle eyes taking me in. He wanted to fix this all for me, I knew, but he couldn’t.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, if I can’t dance,” I whispered softly, blinking in the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom. “I’ll lose Rocketman, and my classes at the Academy, and then what am I? I’ve defined my life by dance.”

“I think right now is not the time to worry about the what ifs to come. You have a road of recovery ahead of you, and you are more important than any career. Besides that, most of the major dance numbers are already done, and you if you focus all of your energy on getting better, maybe you’ll be back in time for Bennie. But regardless of that, the most important thing is you right now. Your career can, and will, wait for you. You’re more than just a dancer to me, you know,” he said with a small smile. “You’re my girl, and I love you.”

His words hit me straight in the chest, and I cried for what felt like the 80th time that day. There I was, sobbing into a wad of tissue paper, goosebumps on my arms because it was cold, propped on the toilet and losing it over everything; it was not my finest moment, but no one was there to make me feel guilty over it either.

My mum had ended up calling the nurse, and she’d brought some crutches for me too, because I wasn’t supposed to put any weight on my leg for a while. After I managed to get myself sorted out, I hobbled back to the bed, and gratefully crawled in, exhausted by even just going to the bathroom. I really had done myself in, and it saddened me. I didn’t want to need help doing even basic things; I wanted to tell myself to get over it, to stop being so weak, but my body didn’t have a choice. I’d abused it, and now I was paying the price.

My head had started to throb by now, and my body ached everywhere. I was due for more painkillers, though, so the nurse changed out my IV bags so I could rest a little easier. She suggested my company give me time to rest, but I didn’t want Taron or my mum to leave just yet.

I asked after Troy, but my mom reassured me that my dog was with Madison and would be just fine. She had also contacted the Academy to let them know of my situation, and they had been nothing but concerned and understanding, which gave me a little bit of relief. Another knock on the door turned out to be Zayn, holding a bouquet of flowers, and Clara, who instantly ran over to me and launched herself into the bed. “Mummy!” she squealed as she flounced down beside me.

“Clara, be careful!” my mum chided, but I was happy to pull my daughter into my arms and hug her tightly.

“Oh, my Clara Bean,” I said, kissing her on the top of her head and smelling the sweet fragrance of the strawberry shampoo still lingering in her hair.

“We came as soon as we could,” Zayn said, setting the vase on the bedside table and kissing me lightly on the forehead.

“Thank you, those are beautiful,” I smiled.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

“Not great at the moment, but I’ll be okay,” I replied, watching as Zayn and Taron shook hands and greeted each other with pats on the shoulder. Zayn really had come a long way in just the past few months, I had to give him that.

We talked for a bit but the heavy arm of sleep was beckoning to me like a warm, cozy blanket, and I couldn’t fight it off any longer. I’m sure at some point they all figured out I had dropped off, and the next time I woke up, it was quite late and I was alone in the dark room. There was a note on the bedside table for me, scribbled in Taron’s handwriting, promising he’d stop by in the morning before going to set; I couldn’t begrudge him wanting to shower and actually get a good night’s sleep. My body was on fire, but I hesitated to hit the call button, figuring this pain was a sort of penance to be paid for all the wrong I’d done in my life.

I wasn’t a bad person, no, I didn’t believe that. Deep down, I’d always had good intentions. I loved the people around me, but when you’re a broken person, the way you love is broken too. And I knew Taron saw that, and understood that, even more than me. He was patient and kind in ways I didn’t deserve, but he gave that to me anyways. The only way I could begin to make amends, to try and fix the pain I’d caused him, was to try and love him the best I could. And that started with me, with fixing myself. I decided, then and there, that no matter how painful it would be, I would let the therapist dig deep, deeper than I’d ever let myself go, into the places I’d long ago sewn shut, the things I’d tried to forget. If I was ever going to heal, I needed to discover how deep the wounds were, and forgive every single person in my life that had caused that pain, and apologize to the little girl I was who lost her innocence long ago.

I slept fitfully for a while, waking up from troubled dreams, dreams full of memories of my father before he left, when he was drunk all the time and shouting and breaking things, scaring my mum and me, the times I hid in the bathroom cabinets, clutching my stuffed patchwork bunny until my mum would tearfully come find me, long after dad had passed out on the couch.

I’m pretty sure the nurse gave me more painkillers at some point in the night, because I woke from a deep, dreamless sleep the next morning to Taron’s sweet kisses peppering my face. “Morning, love,” he said with that adorable boyish grin of his. I smiled, happy at least to see him freshly showered and awake. I still felt exhausted, but that was probably how it would be for a while, until I recovered some more.

“G’morning,” I murmured softly, trying to shake the sleep out of my eyes. I had a dull headache but otherwise felt a little better than the day before. I had no idea when I’d be able to leave; there were more tests to be done before being discharged would even be considered. I giggled when Taron barged his way onto the bed, scooting me over gently, ever-careful of my tubes and wires. He cradled me in his arms, and I was all too happy to lay my head on his chest, hearing his heart beating.

“I think this might be against hospital protocol,” I said, actually laughing.

“Fuck the protocol. I’ve got this hot babe in my arms, so I think I might need treated too, for heatstroke,” he smirked.

“What? That doesn’t even make sense, T!” I giggled, but he didn’t care if it was stupid, he was just happy to see me smiling and laughing again. I was even hungry in the morning, so I ordered eggs and fresh fruit and Taron sat with me while I ate, finishing off my toast when I didn’t touch it.

He hated having to leave me but I didn’t mind so much, just grateful that he wanted to be there with me at all. “Go on, go be Elton and be great at it,” I smiled. “You know where I’ll be,” I smiled as he left a sticky jam kiss on my cheek.

“Of course. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And with a wave, he was gone, but I didn’t have very much time to be bored. After posting something to social media and responding to more texts and chat messages, I had another steady stream of visitors, Leah and Pietre and Dennis included, and several other dancers I had come to call friends. I was touched by the outpouring of love and support. My mum visited again, grateful to see me in better spirits than the day before. And of course Madison came, bringing a massive bouquet that was so large it took up an entire corner of the room and perfumed the air with its floral fragrance.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, but couldn’t help but laugh. She painted my nails while chatting about all the drama I was missing at the Academy, and if I closed my eyes I could very nearly pretend we were just sitting on my couch with wine and containers of Chinese takeout spread out before us. It made me feel normal, and not just like the “sick girl.” She even made me promise that I’d get better or she’d kick my ballerina ass, and I was grateful she didn’t pity me because pity wouldn’t get me through this.

So between visits and further medical tests, mostly to rule out any other issues, the day passed on quickly, and I received some good news by the evening. The doctor determined that come morning I could be sent home, where they were certain I’d be more comfortable, with one caveat; I had to keep the feeding tube for a few more weeks at best, until I could prove I was no longer a danger to myself. But I had been clear to the therapist that I was aware of my shortcomings, the control issues and painful past, the things that drove me to try and control my food intake in the first place. I wanted to get better, and that was crucial; you couldn’t make someone change if they were unwilling to do so. And I genuinely wanted to do better, even if trying to convince myself that my worth was more than my waistline would be an uphill battle.

Taron, of course, did his best to convince me I should hole up in his house with him, where he could keep a closer eye on me, and I didn’t have the energy to argue. So the following morning, after being instructed on how to prepare the feeding pump and bags, and getting me back into my real clothes, I happily signed the papers for dismissal. There would of course be follow-ups and therapist appointments, but this small step in my recovery was important. My mum had promised to keep an eye on my house for a while, and after stopping by to collect more clothes and toiletries and my phone charger and anything else that might be useful, Taron got me settled in on his couch with free reign of his Netflix. It wasn’t a bad arrangement, and I felt much better after I finally got a proper bath, with only a little help from Taron getting in and out of the tub with my bum leg.

While he was away filming, I decided I wasn’t just going to be this invalid in need of his total care, so after hobbling to the kitchen and snooping around in his fridge, I decided to make a curry for when he came home. It took a while to figure out a rhythm with the crutches, but eventually I had a skillet full of lean beef and green curry simmering away and a pot of rice steaming too. I’d just set out bowls and a basket of naan bread on the table when Taron came home again, surprised, of course, by my surprise.

“What is this, babe! You didn’t have to. I’m supposed to spoil you, you know,” he grinned.

“I dunno, I wanted to,” I said as he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me gently. “You didn’t have to do any of this for me. You don’t have to earn your way back into my good graces,” he said, gently tipping my face up to look at him.

“I want to give back. I feel like all I do is take and take, and all I’ve done is manage to hurt you. I want this to be an equal relationship,” I tried to explain.

“I don’t think you take and take from me and give nothing back. You make me happy, Juliette. You make me laugh. You support what I do, and you believe in me. You’re not here for my money or good looks,” he said sweetly.

“Well…maybe the good looks,” I teased lightly, making him chuckle.

“Giving back to me doesn’t have to be tangible goods. I don’t operate in black and white like that. You give back simply by being perfectly imperfect you.”

“Yeah, but you are perfectly perfect, so I feel inadequate all the time.”

“What? I’m not perfect. God… I have my flaws. I’ve been jealous, and angry, and bitter over things. I’ve been distant and cold to you too. I drink too much and don’t get enough sleep and sometimes let my house go to shit. I’m not perfect, I just try. I make the effort. It’s high time you had someone in your life making that effort for you.”

“You say such sweet things to me,” I replied softly, somehow struggling to comprehend he was saying these words to me.

“Well I mean them, so get used to it. You need to get used to being happy. Now, shall we eat this curry before it gets cold?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said lightly, both of us tucking into our bowls. I even managed to eat a few strips of naan, and considered it a victory; a small one, but life had to be lived by the small victories sometimes. We finished our food, had a lazy evening cuddling on the couch with a film we didn’t spend much time actually watching, and rather than waking me after I unintentionally dozed off, Taron carried me to bed.

Or at least I assumed that’s what happened, because I woke up some time in the night, needing to use the bathroom, Taron snoring softly next to me. As I watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling in the darkness, shadows shifting over his face, I realized how much I had truly missed him. How much I needed him. How much I wanted him.

An uncomfortable throbbing need woke up in my groin and I groaned slightly. My body could be a real asshole sometimes. I made myself get out of bed to prevent myself from waking Taron from his slumber, though I’m quite certain he probably wouldn’t have minded if I chose to have my way with him. I also just wasn’t in any shape to have sex at the moment, still bleeding and sore down there anyway. At least I wasn’t totally dead inside, I thought ruefully as I strapped myself back into my boot and stomped as quietly as I could to the bathroom, cringing every time the boot scraped over the wooden floor. I didn’t have to sleep in the thing, but I really couldn’t walk without it at the moment either.

After taking care of my needs I stared at myself in the mirror, at my pale face and rumpled hair and dull eyes, and sighed. I had no idea how Taron still found me attractive at all. But I could be that girl again, if I worked hard enough at it.

I returned to the bed and when I laid back down Taron rolled over and nuzzled into my neck. “Where’d you go?” he murmured, kissing my neck sweetly.

“I had to pee,” I laughed, shrugging at how easy it was to just announce that.

“Well, I hope it was a good trip then,” he giggled, sleep still thick in his voice.

“Um, yeah, it was adequate,” I joked back, running my fingers through his soft, fluffy hair. The movie had yet to hack his hair up but I knew that was coming very soon.

“Glad my facilities are up to your standards,” he snickered back. “God I love you,” he added, his breath hot on my neck and not helping the state of my arousal.

“I know,” I smiled, as he continued to kiss my neck, his fingers slowly working their way under my camisole, caressing the skin of my stomach. “I can’t, you know, not yet,” I whispered, and he sighed softly, light spilling in from between the blind slats reflecting in the deep orbs of his eyes.

“You should get some sleep,” he said, withdrawing his hand and making me sigh shakily.

“I want you, I just, my body,” I tried to explain, not very well, squeezing my eyes shut.

“It’s okay,” he grinned, kissing the tip of my nose cutely. “I know,” he said in return, pulling the blankets around me and humming softly as he settled in to fall asleep once more, his arm draped sweetly over me.

This was what I wanted the rest of my life to look like, this moment, a beautiful man beside me who stole my breath away, who didn’t judge me for my failings, who adored me and loved me with a love so pure I didn’t always know how to carry it. If there was anything to fight for, I knew it was a future with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Juliette continue to fight for herself, and for a future with Taron? Or will she let ghosts of her past haunt her? Keep reading to find out - Chapter 10, Coming Soon!


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